Three cupcakes in a row.
Pink, pinker and nude were they.
Each one more delicate,
More intricately immaculate.
Irresistible.
But alas,
Upon contact of any kind,
No matter how sweet,
How tender, how soft,
They turn right into dust,
To ash.
And right before your very eyes,
A glimmer of bubbles,
And rainbow dust,
A new cupcake rose takes its place.
To always be seen and admired,
But never touched,
That is the curse,
Of the Now and Forever.
(via joliemarie)
