... intrigue in rejection
I might have cared for you once,
Given the time for understanding,
Drawn as a kindred spirit.
I might have admired you once,
Slightly enamored despite your world
Of posturing and condescension,
One where appearance and impression
Is of as great a value as the raw authenticity
That so attracts you,
Despite your complete inability to handle such gifts properly.
I am not one for judgment, and yet I despise your hypocrisy.
You have left me like you, looking down upon all that
Is not mine to comprehend.
I have only apathy, an unwillingness to connect
With those disinterested in the value of my soul,
Nor will I ever find the ability to argue a point impressively
Compensation for your quick assumptions about those
Seeing the world through different glasses, and
Unburdened by your countless regrets.
It is an amusing thing, believing I am meant to be flattered
That you'd stoop as low as to offer
To become one of mine.
I am not interested in your games,
Violent interchange of ideas and emotions and power
Where everyone is affected, and still
Nobody walks away triumphant.
I might have invested in you,
Admired your resilience, become captivated by your complexity.
Were I not so cautious, I may have ultimately fallen victim,
Martyred willingly by my own propensity toward intrigue
For all the wrong reasons.
It is fortunate that simple infatuation
Cannot survive disillusion, and
You remind me there are some who will always
Consider emotion disposable.
It is clear you seek the charms of the lovely and pliable Pygmalion,
The work-in-progress anxious to be enlightened,
Transformed into a mirror image of your own ideals.
It is also quite clear
I am not enough in need of distraction
To ever begin fetching slippers.