To an Ingenue, a Belated Apology

If somebody burned, we ask who lit the flame;

If the victim is guilty, we still assign blame.

We're both blameless of meeting, of place and of time;

Backed by grave consequence was our presence required.

You're at very least guilty of having poor taste,

Thinking beautiful thoughts about this ugly face.

You're guilty of kind and destructive intentions;

I of kindnesses legion but not worth a mention.

I'm guilty of knowing your aims from the first.

You're guilty of thinking me best, which is worse,

and I, the smart, the detached, the mature one

Am guilty of seeing you as a test of professionalism

Instead of as a person.