It’s not quite a year,
But however angry I had been,
His letter no longer turns to righteousness
In my stomach.
We’d been friends and
Allowances should be made, or we’d be very lonely.
But, what of our friendship?
Can it be healed, or is there more to consider?
He inhabits a world that disturbs me,
I do not share his prejudices,
And while some may judge my shortcomings equally grievous,
I’m unable to do more than agree.
His virtues are real.
He has wasted little time on his hurts
And is an honest man.
Still, I will not cross the room to greet him.
We are no longer young
And neither of us can claim
That we have miles to go before
Our collective dust might mingle.
I find my life a little easier
Without this honest man.
My sleep is not troubled
And I wish him friends he may love.
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