as I kissed him,
his lips begged me to write,
his hands,
and pulse,
begged.
she whispered stories she told no-one,
and my fingers oozed words against the fabric of her shirt,
I don’t know if they know how they inspire,
or if they want more credit than I’ve given,
but they begged me, judge,
each and every kiss,
every secret,
begged me share.
so I wrote them down,
and begged more to come.
