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I am not easily charmed
you, with your slippery flattery
and overly kind words
dripping from your lips
like undergraduate adverbs
trying to impress with
style over substance.
Everything you say
comes with an unspoken asterisk.

I am not easily charmed.
The snake oil you sell
with your winks and half grins
has a false fragrance
like the cheap aftershave you wear
just a splash too much of
the chemicals lingering
in the waft of musk left in your wake.

I am not easily charmed
by the face you present
to me, to the world
as if we cannot see the other side
that bleeds through
the snide, conniving side
trying to bargain the best for you
and yours.

I am not easily charmed
but I wish you well
I have no time
nor energy
to feel anything for you at all
but only wish for
clear sight, clarity,
and a functioning bullshit meter
for my replacement.