Unfortunate

Her face, a dark sketch of pain,
looked up to him for a salve.
He looked away, and gulped hard,
trying to suppress the rising bile.
The deluge of tears in her eyes,
threatening to flood her pretty face,
and he stood there, clutching his pride,
while the rest of us cringed with agony.

Her silky hair whooshed like a cape,
when she turned around in exasperation.
Her eyes conveyed the hurt of the heart,
mingled with the shards of a prickly dream.
Her resolve to be unaffected drowned in pain,
and the excuse of love bid a shallow goodbye.

He, too, was lost in this maze of filth,
and he, too, found this feeling enigmatic.
No sympathy he discovered, though, ever,
and his pain died another death in his heart.
The rift, that had cropped up, broadened,
and she fell into it, while he simply watched.