It was a brisk night on the MW patio in early October. You were putting more cardboard on the fire to keep it burning bright. You blew ash and embers into my mouth hole which caused some discomfort, thus Fanning the Flames of Discontent. We exchanged some glances. I felt a connection. I went running with a heart on fire.
A few days later I tried to reach out an olive branch. You snapped it in half and whipped me with it, said I was I in the wrong. I said some words I regretted.
Are we meant to be together forever?
Or will we be eternal mortal enemies?
You tell me.
Forever,
In the wrong?
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