It could happen to anyone, and happens to almost anyone…
You killed it all from the beginning
without giving it a chance,
when you deceived me with that wimp
who did already have a wife,
when I found you in bed with him
while you ignored my birthday
and defended him, your lover, against me,
as if I was the real presumptuous outrageous intruder.
How could such a shipwreck ever set to sea again?
Your other lovers, after his incompetence,
were equal failures, each rebelling naturally
against your blind lack of empathy
and total ego-centricism.
Is all your beauty just a mask then
and a luring substitute for your inadequateness,
immaturity, your childish limitation to yourself
and lack of any spiritual antennae?
No one could have hurt me deeper than you did
since I gave you my love in full
while all you wanted was to toy with sissies
whom you could entirely control and dominate.
My only comfort in this mess
of an aborted possibility of a sincerity
of love expected at its best turned out its worst,
is that at least I made it in not hurting you.