I look at my hand and notice the discarded deck
allowing me a moment to reflect
on the many flings that left many stings
and lay before me as wasted cards
no longer apart of my winning hand
never willing to understand
I play for keeps
not for moments
but for reasons
I demand more than a season
and am willing to declare war on any who would persue otherwise
I no longer cry
peeling scabs off of old wounds
to watch myself bleed again
just to prove I can still feel again
that I can still deal a winning pair
but how unfair was that to me
to hold on to a hand that was clearly
hell bent on losing
I had to stop choosing
emotion over common sense
emotion only led me to play wildly
poker face giving all away
I couldn’t stay in debt anymore
It was time to discard that hand
To discard the back up plans
To discard the why doesn’t she understand
And take my chance
Pluck from the deck for new oppoprtunities
Maybe a possibility
Is that my sin?
No longer wanting to stick it out?
See how it goes?
And watch how the cards lay?
Surely there was a way
for a fling to produce a Queen?
But I am so over
Being beat by the Jokers
of her past
Crushing the crown I placed on her head
The hand was dead
And I play for keeps
I cannot weep
For cards discarded
That discarded themselves.
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