He laughed at my misfortune.

At his own convenience, he left me alone.

He took much pleasure in the company and fantasy of other women, to the degradation of our own.

He suffered from a kind of laziness that prevented him from taking responsibility or the lead.

He did something good, too, something specific and even poetic, indeed it was this good thing, or perhaps it was more of an abstract trait, that came to my mind first, and led to the writing of this poem, but which departed before the writing commenced, and then did not return in a definite form by the time the writing ended.