This devious game of numbers, numbers,
catches me cold, leaves me asunder.
We make mistakes and blurt out blunders;
silence broken by slurps and table legs that thunder.
Clock watching and phone checking too,
texting-texting mates? We’re through.
Nothing matters. Nothing is true.
A date with fate? The joke leaves me blue.
Rare chemistry and raw connections,
like a strawberry cream in a chocolate selection.
Searching for real love and affection
but looking in the wrong direction.
I had it once and now it’s gone.
This dating game carousels on and on.
It isn’t fair. It isn’t fun.
I quit the game. I’m gone. I’m done.