My cat slinks when I pet him.
His back arches inwards,
Moving away from my hand,
And his claws grip the sofa.
He wants so much to be pet.
But he wants to know
That I will go through an effort to pet him,
That we are both gaining something.

The other night I kissed a crying girl
It was a long kiss, which began
Hours before our lips met,
And ended once they did.

I have trouble writing metaphors.