The Muses of Happiness

Betrayal

How does a good friend fall
to being no friend at all?
How does knowing a friend,
turn into betrayal in the end?

How can you not know
Who I am,
What I am,
What I believe,
What I do?

How could I not know
Who you were,
What you were,
Who you deceived,
What you did?

Who I am
is written
on my face–
in the grace
of giving:
What I do.

I have both fallen
from false graces,
and was felled
by the falseness
of your friendship.

My mental spit
is spewed at you
from my virtual mouth.
But the worst of it
is felt like a sore
spot in my breast.

No longer
are you
my friend.

–for * and ** and ***

12/02/10