The touch of a few words from you to my wait out sparks. Sparks increase in direct proportion to your words. The air you breathe out those sparks directed towards me. I find that my area there is fuel. I light.
The fire that comes in my area because of the sparks produced by rubbing a few words from you with my hopes, I throw everything that can be embarrassing. Drafts of millions of cards that you expected, three bus tickets, two photos, a drawing and excuses. And of course, to you. Throw you into the fire in my area and I find that there're also fuel and we both like playing with fire.
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