But when the red shade of your lipstick
matches your dress,
it creates unmatched grace.
That shade rests like a soft shadow on your lips,
protecting them when the harsh wind tries to kiss.
Gentle, moist petals, charm of your pretty face
in your beauty it adds another grace
A glow words fail to describe
your tender lips, a natural vibe.
I hate anything that comes between;
I love to breathe the aroma of your skin.
When my breath drinks the nectar of your lips,
That shade becomes a barrier between our kiss.
That’s my only complaint about your lipstick.
But when the red shade matches your dress,
it creates unmatched grace.
Sometimes I feel the lipstick is so lucky,
it drinks the dew of your lips, where I long to be.
Most of the time on your lips it stays,
and in me, a soft jealousy it creates.
Sometimes I wish I were that red shade—
Each moment I would kiss your lips, unafraid.
Just thinking of it drives me mad.
On your moist lips, the shade of red
when it matches your dress,
it creates unmatched grace.
