Niceties

She was never fond of the niceties. And now she finds that you have served your purpose. Her distraction has been distracted. New horizons to scan, new distances to stare into. She finds that she doesn’t want to gaze upon you any more. Your face, although still handsome, still appealing, has lost its charm.

She started by needing a stranger. She always needs a stranger. The being unknown to another person, the being a stranger herself, the lack of commitment. She feels like she can be anyone with a stranger, because they won’t know any different.

Lately you have become a commitment. In terms of time spent waiting. In terms of effort put into being something that she’s not.

Niceties, you see. She doesn’t spare them. They’re wasted words. It’s better to cut and run.

She has a bloody effigy on her wall. Something to contemplate. She’s tired of your routine, your clumsy advances, your mind-numbing, heartwarming gestures. She’s tired of waiting for something interesting to happen. It’s not your fault.

She isn’t nice, I know. She never has been, though. Don’t delude yourself any more. Don’t expect her to be different. She isn’t nice and she doesn’t do niceties.


In response to the Cowboy Junkies’ song See You Around.

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