Contentment left me discontented,
dissatisfied with satisfaction.
Unselfishness left me resented,
attractiveness was no attraction.

Couldn’t depend on dependable,
and it was hard when it was easy.
Neediness became expendable,
and too much calm made me feel queasy.

Lost all passion for the passionate,
conflicted by the lack of conflict.
No more heart to be compassionate,
found imperfection in the perfect.

A good enough love was never good,
finding those loves not worth looking for.
I know now what I then understood—
love like ours is everything and more.