Love after war

Hate was the word to describe

how I felt when she took my things

without asking; Lending it to her friend

As though it was hers.

Just as how the two great countries in love

yet invaded each other's conquest for seven years,

Only to reshuffle their conquest

As though it was theirs.

Immaturity? All I wanted was revenge,

craving really. I had to do something

to dampen that fire. So

I splashed and spilled.

Power? Greed? All they wanted was more,

or was it to protect their pride?

The Treaty of Paris dampened the spirit,

but France was left bitter.

Whilst blood was spilt in their war;

my weapon of choice was water.

Are you laughing now?

They had armies and artilleries,

I stand alone.

I splashed and spilled,

poured really. On her bed.

What harm was there? None.

For water evaporates.

My wrath evaporated with it.

For she is, after all, my sister.

As much as I hated

the things she did;

As much as we fought

when we were young;

Blood tied us together.

Boy am I glad I did what I did

for all my angers worth;

If I'd kept myself bitter like the French,

I wouldn't love her the way I do now.

Mere sibling rivalry you say,

I beg to differ; I know

how I felt back then.

It could've turned ugly.

Now that we're apart,

We show our love like nobody's business;

Not even Napoleon Bonaparte,

can seize our flying kisses.

#All is fair in love and war