My Lips were buds of innocent untill you came one day;
And drew a fountain from my Heart and careless went your way;
My Lips were hungry,eager flowers curved,in ecstastic bliss to gather the soft sweetness of my next Lovers kiss*
My Lips were lucious ripeness of a crushed and poisoned vine;
When you bent your Lips upon me and my soft one clung to thine;
My Lips are withering fading flowers,fullweary unto death...Dew with out moisture is thy kiss,Wind w/out heat is thy breath...
A fugitive tears wells up from my eyes and is secretly silently shed...
Are Lips that once were innocent...so withered...so parched...so dead...
