Unmasked

We have been friends
for 4,020 days.
Lovers for five.
And everything should've been perfect,
but you, like all others,
are a signal misinterpreter.
And you say that I
am playing you a pawn
in my games.
As if 4,020 days was not enough
to excuse you from playing.

You have confessed, too,
your manipulating sin
as if I am some young,
unknowing, foolish churl,
as if 4,020 days wasn't enough
for me to read you
like lines on a page.
You say you are never wanted,
no one likes you:
it is because you are,
in truth,
unlikeable.
And you have hid,
I have watched
for 4,020 days behind a mask.

Darling, the strings fell long ago.
That mask has become your face.