Street love tale

(Him.)
Cuts on the knees of independencies child,
He’s as thinly coated as a newly groomed poodle
Inured to the ecstasy winds and cocaine rain drops
Battling harsher demons in sleepless dreaming.
(A dreaming we call) reality is his own nightmare
In which he is to awake, assiduous that he will
He has been, for 5 arduous years of drunken depression.

(Her.)
Another month, approaching a year of solitude
Candy hookers befriend her with raunchy whips
That reeled her into an abusive world
A dime a day to care for the rotting baby in the sewer.
Her perfume is not a scent many find charming
A mixture of the man’s breathe and the baby’s death
(Her reality is quite) unlike what she calls a dream.

(Them.)
His first big find of money makes him hungry
Her job of selling a body leaves her desperate
Two halves of a heart shape drug piece together
Into a frenzy of ferocity and calming of care.
A love story an author fears to ever speak aloud
For its ending is as follows, quite lovely:
They walk in opposing directions,
Falling one step at a time,
She cradles the dead baby, he nurses the permanent cuts
They never once blink in absolute wonder
Of what a love tale it could have been.