I can promise disappointment.

You two could have fucked for all I care,
Fucked off would have been even better.
But you thought to stay in contact,
You're so fucking polite,
How did I manage a shit like you,
I don't know how I shut up for so long
How I just took the drivel you spewed
I even knew better.
I fucking knew better.
Ha, they can say any cliché they like
You'll fit them all
You never were original.
You tried really hard to create an image
And used bullying as a defense.
I could call it sad,
But you know where you are,
And I can still guess
But I can promise you disappointment
I know that,
I know it because you always had it wrong
You never worked out where life lies
You'll never work it out either
And that is what I'll call sad.

A small trip

He was slick, he knew it too. Knew I was going to make eye contact. He reached the platform and stepped a sharpe u-turn, took the next few steps down. I had begun my decent by this time. I looking down momentarily glanced at him to see his face at a closer proximity, do I like what I see? His eyes were already on mine, eye contact made, we both go back to concentration on our steps. He reaches the bottom, and I rush to catch up, just so I can catch the door off him when he holds it open. But I'm not quick enough, and as he opens the door, he steps through it and turns to see if he need be gentlemanly for me, he sees I'm just the tiniest bit too far for his attempt to look natural, but it doesn't matter anyway. He dropped the door prematurely as he missed the first step down outside and stubbles to regain footing. I having caught the door half way and opening it myself walk on, and past him with an almost strut, he inconspicuously changes course, and I calculate who to re tell the tale to.