move on.

young blood, new money, shirt more expensive then your car, drinking fancy liquor, being a smart-mouthed good-looking silken-tongued wisp of a boy.

does it hurt knowing you were so wrong about me?

does it hurt knowing that you can't hurt me anymore?

do you ever think about that time in school where i kissed you and you shoved me and called me a fuckin' fag?

good, 'cause i don't. it's not my fault you weren't man enough to accept me for who i was. it's not my job to forgive and forget.

but i'm a nice guy.

so i'll shake your hand, smile

and move on.