You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. He was in a curious state of desperation. The man’s statement was explicit, and spoken with confidence. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. She could feel teenage girls from all corners of the room tensing, preparing to shriek. “But I am your husband,” he said.
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