She whispers sweet somethings to me

In pleading gesture of good faith

Eyes shining with broken slivers

Of shattered hope, longing for me

To speak magic words and rejoin them

Better than before, but I can't.

Or won't? She asks me why,

Hiding tears behind embarrassed hands.

I shrug, and shake my head in

Quiet denial; I have no choice.

She doesn't whinge or rant at me

Just sits there like a rain-cloud,

Dripping quietly.


I turn away, a recalcitrant sun

Refusing to allow her light.