Destitute

He bares bad news when he should bare her soul,
She wants a comfort fuck, but will not offer;
And so they sit together as the toll
Of time passes and, while they seem to suffer,
It's no coincidence that she feels broken,
Void of anything that is worth taking;
She smiles at him: it's no more than a token,
She wonders how it looks: she is awaking
From crushed ideals that cannot be rebuilt,
She wants to make such love, but love demeans:
It fills her eyes with tears; he's moved by guilt
To compliment and say that he still dreams
Of all that they have lost, for now he rues
The fact her soul's still dressed despite his news.