well, hello there.
i do believe we've met before.

you're looking rather well, and so am I, it seems.
likely, it's because you, whatever you're called,
(sometimes, i think you don't have a name)
have not been here for quite some time. fancy that!
and so here: because we're no longer speaking
(as least, I am no longer speaking to you)
i've left a note for you, tacked to my front door
(because I'm sure as hell not opening it for you).

can you imagine,
I'd almost forgotten the
(dis)pleasure of making your acquaintance?
It's hard to believe, I know.
we used to spend a lot of time together,
back when you were
pretending
to be my friend.

but really, to be honest, the memories have become
quite hard to recollect, from
the dusty wastepaper basket in the corner of my mind.
three guesses why.
but, I do (vaguely) recall that at some point we did
realise something important:
you are just no good for me.

But, it seems, you've found your way
back to my front doorstep,
awash in that viscous melting syrup sludge
of unwanted (and ill-remembered) familiarity.

you see, I distinctly remember
(and please, correct me if I'm wrong)
that you (dearest) are the one,
that empty sinking feeling
in the pit of my stomach

and, if it's all the same to you,
I'm quite done with feeling like that.
so, if you don't mind, I'm not letting you in this time.
(and even if you do mind, I don't care)

forget unpacking your things, you're not stepping over
the threshold right in front of you (so sorry).
keep it all (and yourself) far away from me.
And please, for future reference,
stay the hell out of my life.

sincerely,
trying very hard to be happy.

even with all of this bravado, the chances of success seem slim.
parasites like to come back