I Smelled Trouble of a Fancy Rose

Petite sweet deception-free promises Blurred the air Trusting hope Deep deliberate ingestion of my own fantasy The air was cool and refreshing But exhaling nothing but warm beer and salsa I accepted the dare to believe That the next glimpse would deepen the hope That I had become more worthy of the beauty That my eyes provided That she was both the rose and the fragrance But exhaling nothing but warm beer and salsa I was returned to where I started from