“Only kiss me on my forehead,
if you're trying to make me yours."
A gentle sterness in your voice.
A soft command that echoes.

Is it a dare or a boundary?
I still can't decide.
And now here you are, wrappen in nights emrace.
As I see myself leaning in.

Caught in the sweet ache,
of wantig to go slow, too fast.
Closing the distance between what is and could be.
Wishing to plant that promise,

and let everything begin.