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My endeavour to be frank, revealing what you ought to know, was no success; you chose to take offence at the mention of my heart's commitment - inclined to find the formula for storming off with concocted rage. I was sage enough not to engage, intrepidly stepping to one side of your thrusts - adjusting my stance to enhance my chance of saying nothing - bluffing it out from a faintly dignified reserve. I'm nervous of disposition, and ill-fitted for spitting insults and swipes with claws unsheathed. Your seething anger flashed warning signals (big and red) on the front screen of my vision.      Before you found the means to feel betrayed,      while blowing you a kiss, I slunk away.