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.