All you wanted was one kiss.

Just one taste of those plush, strawberry-colored lips. You just wanted to see what they felt like, though you had always imagined them as soft. Soft, like her skin, which you had felt so many times before. You imagined her lips to be so smooth, also like her skin.

God, that skin. You would try to touch it every chance you got. It was tan, like the sand at your favorite beach. It was as if the Sun itself had come out of the heavens to place its own delicate kiss on her skin. But you want for her skin paled in comparison to your need for those lips.

For you, that is always what it comes back to her lips. Those lips had been your obsession for three years now. Those lips told you stories from her past, her childhood. Uttered from them were words that you wouldn't trade for anything. Each and every one of them was priceless, and one of a kind. Whether she was being sarcastic, or she was being sincere, they all meant the same to you. And they meant everything.

When she called herself your best friend, you could have cried. You had never had a best friend before. From then on every time she would say those words, your desire to claim those lips grew. If that was even possible.

Her Labium Inferius Oris always held your attention. Whether speaking, laughing, smiling, or sobbing, they always caught your eye.

You just wish those lips could have uttered an 'I love you'. Could have told you their feeling for you. Could have screamed your name in ecstasy. You just wish they could have asked the question every little girl fantasized about: 'Will you marry me?'.

Her lips were something you had always admired about her. They were always the first thing you noticed.

And now they will be the last thing you see of her. The pallbearers are waiting to close the casket. So you focus in on those lips as you step back, watching them disappear as glossy wood obscures your view. The picture is burned into your memory. They are no longer strawberry colored and plush, but pale and thin. And her skin has no longer been kissed by the Sun, but by Death himself.

Now you will never get a chance to taste her lips. They will never call you her best friend again. And they will never utter their owner's true feelings for you.

You step backward until you are next to her family and you watch them lower the coffin into the ground, taking your objects of wonder, love, and admiration with it.

You hear sounds all around you, voices uttered from lips you don't love, voices of people that don't hold your heart. You wish for your ears to go deaf, for all you want is her raspy voice. But alas your ears don't listen.

You hear her family whisper, "Poor Maura. She was so antisocial until she let Jane in. What will happen to her now?"

Your coworkers' words echo in your ear, "Without Jane we're left to deal with the nerd. At least Jane could stand to be around her."

You want to stop hearing them; you want to stop hearing it all. But you can't. Now you have to deal with it all. Now you have to live without her. Now you are alone, with no one to stand up for you. Without Jane you will become Queen of the Dead once more. Friendless, without a family, and loveless.

Oh Maura.

All you wanted was just one kiss.