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,
I turn away, a recalcitrant sun
Refusing to allow her light.