The first I met him, we befitted friends.
His dark eyes laughed, his smile warmed.
We sparred with assegais of facetiousness and wit.
When I’d emerge conquering, he’d watch amused.
Throughout, I stood susceptible to reddens.
Only he was fenced by obscurity; I was a fine thespian.
The first I met him, we befitted friends.
He shared anecdotes, I heeded charmed.
My blemishes bare, he’d succour by playing bigger git.
I held myself blasé but here he rendered me confused.
Every time he’d mention ‘her’, he saddens.
She who broke his heart; another nature of thespian.
The second I met him, we parted strangers.
He was with ‘her’, his face pained.
I was audience to her flooding his compliant shoulders.
Ostensibly, she had her heart frayed; he was a kind fool.
Maybe she was too, my jealousy was parochial.
He left me in the side-lines, I upheld insouciance.
Betrayed in the deep; he turned just another thespian.
The second I met him, we parted strangers.
I could pretend no more, quietude derailed.
I was his friend; I would not sit silent with his heart beneath boulders.
Carving sculptures of disparage, my anger a handy tool.
Her tears louder, she bolted in denial.
He faced me with grassed eyes, tainting my conscience.
Chasing her, he let me down; did he not say she meant nothing? Damn thespian.
The third we met, we befitted strangers.
Took me long to recognise I loved him, I owed my pride.
It stayed matter of the past, probably didn’t love him much.
Perhaps, the truth fused it; candid and charade merged.
It was now just an experience supporting me tougher.
I was fatigued of being a thespian.
The third we met, we befitted strangers.
Coincidence met us, he greeted pained with ‘her’ by his side.
Returning a polite smile, shrug the final touch.
She’d stayed the same leaf too, in regret he submerged.
His sorrow brought him to me, I arose harsher.
“You deserved it,” I uncloaked my thespian.
The last we met, we parted friends.
My hazel eyes laughed, my smile warmed.
We sparred with assegais of facetiousness and wit.
When he’d emerge conquering, I’d watch amused.
Throughout, he stood susceptible to reddens.
“I love you,” he shed his cloak too, his thespian.
The last we met, we parted friends.
Was irony mocking us? I gawked alarmed.
As I confessed that I did too, his handsome face lit.
Feeling light and free, I continued “But no more.” He paused confused.
When he thinks about what he lost, he saddens.
“I’ll wait forever.” I’d already turned my back; I was no longer that thespian.
