I stare at him. I glare at him.

He smiles sheepishly and shrugs.

I think he knows what I am hiding.

I tell him sternly: “It won’t help.

You are ungrateful, messy whelp!”

He grins at me. He laughs at me.

Ignores my hisses, pulls me close.

I think he knows that I am lost,

Despite him being utterly unfair.

I push him back and stare, and glare….

He chuckles brashly, darts and pulls,

I crash with him and grumble loudly.

I think he knows that I won’t fight him.

He bends and seals my lips with his,

My world gets drown in mushy fizz.