My five minutes of fame with you could not have poisoned the basis of your personality.
Whilst written words were never significant with you, your aura and actions promised faith and fortitude.
It’s true that you can rise from the ashes: yes the fire that I created;
but this newfound, unavailable, yet possibly flirtatious persona is regrettably revolting.
Having not sat on the receiving end of a hollow heart and banal bland effort, such secret exploits, furtive girl hopping and all round wasted wanker behaviour is beyond my candid consistency.
If I prematurely judged you to be the best I would ever have, then I can do nothing but bow to my failure and wish you well with your kind.