Roses Are

6/7/10

I imagine how it would be like
For a boy
To taste my lips as he kisses me
For the first time--

The first time I ever wear lipstick
On a date;

The first time I decide
To kiss a boy first;

The first time I know
It's definitely the last time...

I imagine it to taste like
A white rose dying;
Once white,
Then yellow,
Then withered away,
Left to brittleness,
And bitterness,
And sour-brown-stained,

Left for its beauty to find its sweet way

For that definite last kiss
To beautifully decay.