Mouse.

I owe an old friend an apology, which I wont give them any time soon.

Quivering uncertainty

lingers in your voice as always.

When we first met, foolishly I mistook

this mouse-like quality for kindness.

And in a kindly way

you contradict each word I say.

Hatred boils inside me but I cannot say a word,

only reel back and ask, if that's really what I heard.

So subtle and maternal,

concerned and so discreet.

the malice only I see makes me 

surprised you have a heart beat.

Because you're passionless as paper,

just as sharp and just as cold.

You wrinkle it with just a touch,

that'll be you when you're old.

For once, I've learnt what you have not;

Our hearts aren't made of gold.

Rebellion may be long dead these days,

but that doesn't mean you should do what you're told.

I thought, once, I could rebel

by staying good and wholesome.

A romantic, intellectual dreamer

meek, and eternally lonesome.

But I was only wasting

the few years that I had,

so from now on I will live my life

and not be needlessly sad.

Go home, Mouse,

to university and success.

If it brings you the happiness you desire,

in that respect alone,

I have not failed you as a friend.

Reviews

[closed..acct]

You are a really talented person.
I love how well your writes just flow.
deep powerful write here.
I really enjoyed this write.

[The White Wolf]

Ah, you have seen the gaslight as well. I can relate. I very much like your subtle descriptiveness and slow rise of emotion. Nice work.

[Michael Opoku-Addo]

A mind stimulating read. Another very touching poem. Very well done.

[RedInk524]

Interesting... I like the paper metaphor.
well, regarding apologies its better late than never.