Sometimes it can be hard to know her skin

the way she likes to hide

and never let somebody in.



But even so she's like roses,

and their fallen petals 

floating in the wind.



Caught in the zephyr,

my hands stretched to their limit;

and even with the tightest grip, 

they still slip through my fingers.

Interlaced the same stem,

Woman to woman

That old teenage *******.



Red lipstick smeared across our face, 

Her laughter in my mouth,

and God I love the way it tastes.