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