29 April 2012
It's a game, this thing we do,
Where we're more than friends,
Less than lovers,
Who knows these days?
The line has become so blurred,
Hard to judge,
Where one roll of the dice begins,
And another ends.
I don't know the rules.
You make them up,
As you go along,
From your little black book,
Of perfect things to say,
How to build me, break me,
Bend me to your will,
A leaning tower of trust,
And love.
You have all the pieces
Of me in your hand
So play straight,
Lose the poker face.
Who made you banker,
Referee,
Judge and jury?
To decide what's inappropriate,
And what's not.
Don't pass go,
Take a step back.
I'm not the first
You've played,
But apparently I'm the cheat.
I always lose,
But I'll pick my morals off the floor,
And come back for more.
Game • Opuss № I