I hope we can be friends.

No mention of future plans of love-theft No future plans or mentioning some theft of love or winning hearts before minds, we're both feeling a touch resigned and left counting passing headlights through your livingroom curtains. Mutually enchanted (I'll admit "somewhat" if pressed) without being singularly enchanting, and I'm blaming it on the night's cold air and the fact that this, this around us, well, this is a blanket.