The Acquaintance

To someone I refuse to call a friend.

you
fool yourself
in your comforted, well-lit mind
that i'm just someone
who let herself down,
but...
you're not brave enough to notice
all these teardrops on my face.
you stood and observed
as others
tore me apart,
and when you said nothing, i could discern
you were laughing with them
inside. you took my hand
and dug your claws into
the fragile flesh, and when
they told me
to shut up, so long ago,
if i squinted
i could detect your smirk.
you don't deserve
the elite title of friend;
you're only
another one of them--
akin to
everyone else
in that
knowing you is a burden.