the cottage

It was a small bonfire,
and she looked so
worn,
bored,
lonely,
frustrated,

peeling
the sticker off
her 10th beer.

I was laughing,
sitting on Rick's
stiff crotch.
Eyes lost
in the crying flames,
when she reached
for your hand -
some warmth,
and you swiftly
flicked her away.

You arrogant
gypsy bastard.

She was cold
'cause the fire
you built
was some sad
shit.

She just wanted
to hold
your fucking
hand.