Note to a humanist

I have tried long and hard to find
the courage of soul required to let you be the
egocentric, seductive, knowledgable fickle coward
you always are unnoticeably, but now knowingly , for the sake of my heart to
find itself next to you. In this quest I have discovered that unambiguously my admiration
for my own self- not for who I am - in many ways not but a woman ordinary
but uncommon in the way that i loved you purely- is of much great lengths than
I expected - I find in the disgust for the thinness, for the calculated fakeness of your enthusiasms
a bitterness unoften, unusual for my skin to assimilate.
I don't know how best to say that
the tragedy, my dear,
is not that I love you
Is that it doesn't matter anymore.