It seems that all poems

are sappy odes to girlfriends,

either ex or current.

It doesn't really matter which;

all end up sounding the same.

The writers are Shakesperean wannabes

who barely know an adjective from an adverb

And spend most of their time

learning to play 60s rock songs on guitar

sipping lukewarm herbal tea

and perfecting their obviously faux British accents,

Pausing only to string some words together

and calling the end result a poem.

I binge-read them

drinking in every last word

Like an alcoholic would

suck down every last drop of whiskey.

Not because they remind me of you

and what we used to be

But because I laugh

at these clingy, lovestruck poets.

Because after you, love, to me

is a dead language

And I pity those

who still speak it.