Pucker Yucker Poem by Ima Ryma

A vegan, my boyfriend is not,
But thanks to the heads up on lips,
Wearing a red lipstick that's got
Crushed up beetles in it - he flips
Out each time he gives me a kiss,
Even though the brand that I wear
Doesn't declare any of this
Cochineal beetle in there.
He's worried that other bugs may
Be lurking somewhere in the gloss.
Who knows the names the labels say?
His fret is my romantic loss.

Is it because I have bad breath?
No. No. It's the kiss of bug death.