A friend whom you love is the one you should love—
But some are vile whom we love, and could never be our friend—
Yet love and friendship are how they pretend
To be who they are, and so we love them.
And as those we love, whom are vile, are pretending
With knowing looks and sweet smiles, the only difference,
Among the looks and the smiles, is the intelligence
And the scholarship and the science: their love will be ending.
There will not be kisses after a while.
The friend whom we loved will look at us without a smile
And this ending is the only way to tell
That love was never love, that all was not well,
That even when she was a lover and a friend she was vile.