The man who was once my friend came to me the other day,
And he said to me,
"Why have you done this to me? I only seek to assuage your hurt."
He was well aware that this was not the case,
Having shut his windows,
Locked his doors,
Burnt the letters I sent him,
And screened his calls.

We passed each other in the market, and he hurt me and slandered me,
And now he appears at my front doorstep,
Claiming to have tried to assuage my hurt.
He said not a single word to me for three months,
And now he appears at my front doorstep,
Claiming to assuage my hurt.

What then do I do to such a one,
To someone who has the name of one who was once a friend
To someone who has the face of one who was once a friend
To someone who everyone else thinks was once a friend

But who is so clearly radically changed, turned so hostile, that it would be better if he was dead?

At least then I could reflect on memories of glorious days past,
Days spent hand in hand laying in the warm sunshine,
Padding softly through the rain.

But instead I deal with this ugly thing,
This manipulative monstrosity,
Who breaks his promises and slanders me in public,
Then tries to act as if he were my friend.

I refuse.
These insincere apologies are not for me.
Come back another day, I said, when you will be ready to embrace me as the friend you once did.
Change for me as I changed for you, and maybe the ground between us will no longer be so much scorched earth.