Oh, hello there!

The last time I saw you we were walking barefoot in obsidian sand. The tiny grain like particles glistened and shone in the sunlight like a thousand stars in the midnight sky. I cried at sunset, for their sparkle had vanished, much like the glisten from your eyes. You know better than to behave like that in front of a lady; then again I know better than to surround myself with “your sort.” Your sort! How sweetly those penalizing words roll from the tongue; and from the tongue, to the knees, to the wine stained carpet we fall; rolling and crashing like waves, we fall. Again I caught myself off guard with your sudden presence; though I know not to this day what surprised me so much of it. It took the breath from my lungs when you opened the front door; my queue to leave, but of course I stayed. Ah! And so I set myself up for another great fall. It’s funny that I don’t even care, even though I do. It’s the painful self-confrontation that gets me, rather than the sneers and calls of others which simply roll of my back like raindrops or dry earth. Therefore I suppose I can say that it isn’t you who gets to me at all; rather me, myself, and I; and that white cloaked conscience that seems to appear on my shoulder only after the deed is done.
Someone called you a clown the other day. I caught myself taking offence at my own boisterous laughter. I wonder when the comical became so demeaning; but really,
I don’t care much at all.