Taking seminars in relationships,
designed to make you more considerate,
does not belay your own apocalypse,
nor offers up a tangible rebut
to your self-pity and isolation.
You numb yourself to life with drugs you choose,
preferring to be drunk or stoned to fun,
and then complain about the love you lose.
At what could be the best of times for you,
you opt for dreadful misery and cry,
“Why can’t I find a love like you have, too?”
If you could hear yourself you would know why:
You’d hear no joy, no gratitude, no zest;
You’d hear just greed and jealousy expressed.
 
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