On A Certain Female’s Certain Ignorance Of Love

[Lizzie]

Hi Brian, I have some thoughts for you. I agree with zorcas that it needs a little more focus -- I think you're trying to cover too many topics. Also, you could condense this to about half of its size without loss of meaning. There is a lot of filler. Ok, onward.

On A Certain Female’s Certain Ignorance Of Love. -- I think the title is ok, except for the second 'certain.' The certain actually weakens the word 'ignorance' by qualifying it.

To love a girl? A waste of time
Spent better company’d by wine,
Though purple grapes won’t swallow spunk
Unlike her love they leave you drunk.
For wine won’t leave you wanting more,
To ‘couple’ with a doting bore, -- it's unclear who the bore is
Who’ll see her more and fuck her less,
Arrange her life and end her mess.
As through him order she attains, -- very awkward sentence structure. I think it's better to utilize some enjambment to get the rhymes where you want them then to twist the words around to make the rhymes fit in a certain position.
How long can she suppress the strains?
Her want for passion, red raw highs,
The long for lust between her thighs.
But passion he has! Through cards and flowers, -- I'm getting a little lost here. We began with the speaker who is presumably the jilted ex, then moved on to talking about her, and now someone (else?) is being referred to, and I don't know if we're moving on to someone new or if the speaker is referring to themselves in a different tense.
Tradition, meals and relaxed hours. --these are not things I associate with passion, but I'll go with it.
Yet flowers are a thoughtless gift-
Memorable? No. Their death is swift. --very choppy because of the question mark and then the end stop.
Excitement? Rarely rolls the rumble -- rolls the rumble? Don't know what this means?
A birthday fuck, a drunken fumble,
And Valentine’s! That day of course,
They smile when they should show remorse. --who are 'they?'
For that Hallmark day of celebration,
Lingerie and obligation, --indeed, good line.
Serves its purpose yet portrays
Their staleness on all other days. --like these two lines, except I don't know what purpose you're asserting that it serves. But, I do like the idea of an artificially amped up romance on that day that creates a stark contrast with the rest of their relationship.
But this fine day, romance is clear;
Who cares for their remaining year! -- These two lines don't say much, and I would cut them. The pace is flagging.
Not she, whilst she is not alone; -- I would stay away from archaic constructions like whilst. If it were an intentionally old fashioned piece, then yes, but here it serves no purpose except to irritate
Her father, bone and chaperone. -- why, oh why is the word bone right next to father??? Simply creepy. *Shudder*
That thing they speak, ‘relationship’-
Without love? Dual custodianship. -- again, very choppy. Also, I still don't know who 'they' is referring to.
She likes his looks and they get on, -- so, from here until my next comment down, are we still talking about the girl in the title, or have we moved on to some hypothetical scenario? I would re-work this so that you're talking about the person you set out to talk about. Keep everything as concrete as possible, because it's starting to feel a little like a sermon. It really lacks immediacy, and, frankly, reads like filler. 
But void of heart is it not wrong
To waste rare hours in dire embrace
Of other ‘cause you "liked his face”?
What more a woman could desire?
An easy life, no chance to hire.
The stranger’s glint she can ignore,
Her friends that don’t, she’ll label whores.
Though surely sluts will have more fun, -- It seems now that we're moving on to talking about sexual politics in general, and moving away from the specified topic of the poem.
A greater list of men they’ve done,
They’ll settle down and never sigh
Of a wasted youth with a boring guy.
And who is she? She fucks a man -- I'm asking this myself. Who is she? Who are we talking about? Not name, address, social security number, but is this still the title girl or some hypothetical girl? So lost.
She does not love and never can.
She knows this yet she fucks him still,
She soils herself with his bleak will.
And in exchange? His dull devotion,
Companionship, his weak emotion.
Every fuck, putrescent pollution
Furthering her from absolution,
From I, this is no persecution- -- 'from I' is very awkward phrasing.
Relationship, no. Prostitution!

Three years spent, they’ll drift apart,
A tragic waste of her promising heart; 
A heart that sadly she assigned
To beat ‘neath her inhibiting mind.
Romantics true, a dying breed,
Contentment grasped through reason, greed.
And saying such I sound so scornful,
I loved her once. Thus I am mournful.
As to be hers I’d have to change,
My heathen ways I would exchange.
Yet then so boring would I be,
That she now loves, she would not see.
Still therefore she'd not want me,
And I’d not want me neither.

RBJ

I'm lost and exhausted. I'll come back and give it another go after you give it an edit. My advice to you is to really boil it down to its essence -- cut anything that isn't pulling its weight. You could even probably chop it into a couple of separate poems if you didn't want to lose any of your content. But, as is, I'm sorry to say that it is wearisome.

I hope this helps.

Best,

lizziep