Unspoken?

"I don't believe in love," he announced, leaning back and folding his arms and obviously waiting for my response.
"Why not?" I replied, because it was my role to turn the statement into an argument.
"It's crap. It's a Hallmark holiday! It's a Hollywood cliche!"
"I am surprised that you'd say that, love used to be all you talked about. You're a poet after all, Frank."
"Maybe I used to be. But lately I don't feel like one. It's like... I am all out of fancy words. And so what if I am? Love, liberty, the beauty of the world? In the end we all die alone."
"I don't think you should give up so easily on love," I said, sadly, even though it was probably a lost cause. "Who knows who you will meet tomorrow?"
He just shook his head, dissatisfied with my logic or maybe my girly sentiment, and ordered another drink.