The winner takes it all.

And so the games continue… with my heart as the ping-pong ball.  How can someone expect so much more than they’re willing to give?  But I play along, knowing that I finally feel like I have a bit of the upper hand.  This is always momentary.  Just like a gamble, you can be on top for a moment and fall on your face the next.

I don’t want to play.

I want it to be real.  I thought we were past this.  Why does he feel the need to carry on trite conversation with me? It’s a waste of my time.  Maybe I sound harsh but what’s the point of all this?  At the end of the day he’s still the power player no matter how many rounds I may have won.  I’m being strung along just enough.  He has to know this part of the game.

In the end, he takes it all because I spend my evenings waiting on him, pouring my heart into yet another project for him.  Just another way for me to win his devotions.  Yes I did admit to still playing…  I even dance around the idea of a note.  He doesn’t deserve me.  I don’t think he ever will, but as long as I'm a willing participant in this pursuit I’m just as bad as the player, the dealer, and succinctly, the winner.