adversity (sonnet)

The measure of success is how we count  
Our disappointments, when the love has gone;
I wonder, had lust lasted, what amount  
Of pleasure would have gratified; what fun  
We might have had together? But, now split,  
You find fine furious fucks and, me, delights  
Alone in destinies we shared; you grit
Your teeth and can conceal those thrilling nights  
From someone, who you care for deeply now;
So who do you betray? No one at all  
Besides yourself; you reaped all you once ploughed  
And walked away to leave me feeling small,  
Forgotten, yet obliged to recollect  
Dissembling dick (shredded in retrospect).