I never understood the phrase: ‘we get on like a house on fire.’
Who would one make such an idiom?
Like homes were built for combustion.
Don’t you know three is a crowd?
Brick, mortar and fire cannot coexist.
Don’t bring fire into your home.
The heat of excitement and synchrony she brings is only temporary – she is no sister wife. If anything she will become the man of the relationship.
Brick will step down. Mortar will try to hold things together. But fire always wins.
As you bicker she will flicker, watching you squabble and quibble in your lover’s quarrel. She will watch you break yourselves apart and into pieces before swallowing your remains. And in your singing refrain of disdain and pain as all that you once had goes up in flames, she will maim all that you once were.
For her this is easy – her day job, turning beauty into crisp.
She won’t bat an eyelid because it’s onto the next crib.
Fire is a philandering adulterer.
You brought her in as a pacifier, a dose of spice to heat things up and excite your union.
Don’t you know threesomes never work?
Someone always gets overambitious in the sheets and cheats… thinking fire was there to have and eat.
Fire is a hazard not a sex partner.
You can’t leave her unsatisfied..
She will take all of you and leave in her wake, carbon monoxide.
And she will choke you with her smoke until you’ve overdosed on her aura.
Then she’ll leave to go and get more.