Cat And Mouse

My heart? It belongs not to poetry She is a tigress, Sexy and intoxicating Once under the spell of her touch, I cast my fate to the wind, Willing to stand in the cold rain Her bed? Sheets of opium, With arms of enticement, Promising pleasures to satiate any desire Then pushing us off the edge, To see us hit the floor Her reputation? A woman of the night, That you would not bring home to mother She is the bird, Laying eggs in another's nest, For them to raise, Then taking all credit She does not cook, But devours you Faithful to no one Yet, knows how to dress, Always wearing something new, And that is her true appeal She knows our weaknesses, Toys with our emotions, Oh what an ultimate tease! But she offers us release, And that is enough I both hate and love her, Despise and admire Yet, My heart? It belongs not to poetry Who am I fooling? Until the next wind, I wait to cast my fate