All Is Fair in War and War

They say "all is fair in love and war," but how fair is it really to feel like those two opposing words are synonyms? Loving you was a battle; until I would finally surrender, waving my white flag that were my bedsheets. There we would make amends each night, calling a truce because we were in love. Or was it lust? Those two words got frequently confused, entangled like our limbs intertwined with each other's in those sheets - flags. They say to never let your partner go to bed angry. But maybe that is just what those white flags represented: appearing that way. Was it really a fair representation of how we still felt? Maybe that is why we rushed through every battle. So that at night, your gentle embrace could turn into a touch. So that every night, you could touch me like you were seizing enemy's grounds. Because those white sheets are what made everything peaceful again - for you. I did not mind. Either way we were having a violent love affair. Or maybe just affair. Both love and war made me feel cold, lifeless. One way was bullets, shooting me down until I had nothing left to give except everything. And another was a loving, warm embrace. But still, every night, it never remained that way. Your embrace would become a touch and we would finally let down our shields for some moments. Only for you to eventually turn and face the opposite side of the bed leaving me cold without your protecting hold. Knowing you, you would negotiate that a cool pillow is better, anyway. And that was the treaty we had drawn every night, because all is fair in war and war.