It began doubtfully as a gentle kiss
But the flower thought of her first kiss
Been trying to clean the stained past
Loving a losing battle using a mask

All I wish is just an approving glance
For me to even start a fighting stance
Yet the flower excretes peromones
Then four bees landed as she moans

It was the flower's fortè shown at last
Yet it got stuck in my stupid heart
Even now that I knew, I am not ******
Yes, my touch is not what she misses.