You know…

It isn’t your feet of clay that depress me and have turned passion to pity

Not that at all, once beloved of my youth

Read this: my ironic smile

Not that at all

It is your icy heart

Your sedimentary soul

Your calcified mind

Mostly I mourn our friendship’s lost potential…

I mourn the rebuff wrapped in this abhorrently cheap suit of transparent macho immaturity you insist on wearing like an Armani suit

Your sadly archaic, Neanderthal and schoolboy-perception driven ego

That makes you think that you are above even the smallest of social courtesies

For fear that by those, I might find you enticing enough to pursue you

Sad little man

What did you do to the boy that I loved?

And no…

That question was not me flirting with you

~ kei
20 January 2016