We’re Through

you picked a fight

last night. and right

away I knew, sight

unseen, your bite,

like your bark, might

be worse than sleight

meant to excite.

those who delight

in keeping tight

eye on full fright

triggered by blight

have no foresight.

it’s not alright

when you invite,

most impolite,

a parasite

into our rite.

your acts incite

disdain; no white

flag stirred invite

in me tonight.

an erudite

would find no plight

to fear despite

sparks to ignite

a long, swift flight.

at dawn’s grey light –

you’ll find me quite

gone. Not in spite,

but set to write

a wrong.