Cards

Call a spade a spade

Or at least that’s what he said

The decks were stacked against me

It appears I’ve made my bed

He said our love was broken

Sharp glass left in shards

I don’t understand his reasons

No one ever taught me how to play cards.

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19 thoughts on “Cards

  1. Love your posts and your thoughts and the words you use to dress them in. So glad I came across your blog and your style writing. Even though you say it is stream of consciousness, there is vulnerability that goes beyond stream of consciousness. Keep up the really good work. Cheers and thanks :-)

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Like that modern glass that’s called “tempered” so that if it breaks it shatters into thousands of tiny pieces and not into shards, so people need to develop tempered love. Then when it breaks, it won’t cut anything, just crumble to be swept away. Then another pane (pain?) can be found to replace the broken one. OK, I’ve had my dig at love. Now to address you poem: love it.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. the card is from an artist who draws images on playing cards (link at the bottom of the poem) and I liked this one the best :) She doesn’t do full decks so each image is only on one card and this one seemed like it was appropriate for some reason.

      Liked by 1 person

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