It is the most miserable thing to feel ashamed of home....Charles Dickens

Faced opposite with interested black eyes, stinging, enticing as they are, it amuses me tentatively you think I don't know what rules of game you adhere, that you don't know the end has come. I won if objective was freedom from control, to further enhance my stride home the closer I cut tortured strings of rejection keeping me near, dismissal for not providing your needs required...for being my honestly complex self with easiness. I am not the slightest ashamed of where or how I choose to live, I am with heartfelt gratitude for knowing my strength in line with weakness, passion, efforts afforded in creating a just world if fairness only lies within my own sphere.

I simply choose not to reveal all to you as witness I learnt how you use information I provide, adding weight to your needy assumptions of who I am...your projections mashed with inflated sense of self worth only standing scrutiny by way of belittling your challenger, I'd wager.

I am, my darling, too large in stature from years of building residence on solid foundation to be crushed by such transparent insecurity I see in you. That you don't recognise me is your abject failure, lost game even if saddened myself over liberation from sensuous gain. I shall take those eyes deep in story belonging only to you along my journey anew, your kiss gentle to my embittered bite as I will my self saved identity in fluid tact. Friend as I am to you I said should you want endures...I doubt you will want.