Magenta

Magenta is a fine dust upon my fingertips

Tart against my lips

You always told me I was too bitter

I prefer too vibrant

For you to explore fully

Lick my lips to clear off the last of magenta

Lingering  in the corners of my mouth

Leaning forward, I hiss

Life will not be a quiet affair

So come closer

Let the magenta on my fingertips

Hover before your mouth

Have a taste

Not everything that is tart is bittersweet