All Wrong Poem by Beatrice Preti

sometimes i get jealous when i hear them sing
of love and friendship, and empty things
i had love once, but now it’s gone
all i have left are the poems and songs
sometimes i write in a fit of despair
when things are all wrong and no one is there
but sometimes there’s love, and sometimes i write
from the blush of the morning to the depths of night
but that is so rare, and i am so old
and i’ve seen the fall-out of things i’ve been told
and i will get jealous, so i will write, too
though none of the songs will be entirely true
because things are not better, and love is all gone
and, no matter what happens, it will all be all wrong