Rose Flavored Lips

Everyone's always said I've had little lips.

And I would always respond Well they aren't too little if you're so intrigued by them.

Exrta ordinary breaks of wind, tongue, through teeth they sing a thought to my lips forging vowels and syllables releasing vibrations to another's ear.

Communication, verbal or non you can still read the ones of theirs.

Can we still actually know they mean what they say?

My mouth do more than just lay there.

I still remember the first time my lips met another pair,

other than my mom's that is.

The Fourth of July, me and my neighbor, Nalia on the roof of a car looking into the sky, my first kiss, at six.

Lips so soft, lined with pink glitter gloss was hers.

Not like yours, hard and cracked from the cold things you say.

Unhealed heart, you can't break their bones with those eyes, but oh, if they could kill like words do.

Once so happy smiles and smooth serinades flattered me through those lips.

Only if I knew who hurt you.

You know the words do, you use that smirk as ammunition to shoot them down, every word causing their soul to bleed out.

Just like how you,

Put me on a pedestal to rip me from under it,

Only to place another atop.

Vine’s trickling upward spilling into the sky,

cut at the base

to condemn the rose’s to hell,

While being shot by you on it’s way down.

Ripped from the heavens;

scorched by the fires of your trotting toes

upon what was a serene rose.

Parched petals,

My thorn’s would not phase the indignation in your rage.

In vexation you tainted my glowing essance into a weaping extiriority,

No longer making you my priority.

I forgot it was me.

I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never betrayed you, sorry if it seemed that way.

I left you swaying in the wind, Saying I hate you too.

I wish it wasnt too little too late.

It’s way past too late my prints were all over the crime scene. They killed what we had.

They didnt mean what they say sometimes my mouth just speaks, without consulting my head.

These lips…

You know, everyones always said I had a big mouth.

I’d always say I sure do and you’d love to hear what it has to say....

I sont say that any more because

the strong winded words with weak feeling,

I hate you emancipated themselfs from my mouth a long time ago

and you showed me what hate was.

I feel your heat, fueled by the anger that has left me charred.

I can still taste the bullets and blood in our last kiss.

And what became the rose flavored lips of ours after we had met.

My lips, my mouth.

Sometimes it cant always say what I wish it would.

Speachless, now I am.

I wish I can, I could only utter the courage to let these little lips say,

I love you and I am sorry.