They say lucky at cards, unlucky in love,
and I’m unnaturally fortunate at Hearts.
Don’t take my dry face at face value
ever though I’m terrible at poker. Last
moments of the day and I’m making
the minutes stretch because midnight’s
a line I don’t want to cross. There’s such
a flaw in pretending you’re strong all the time,
knowing full well you’re not fooling anyone.
I wish I could say it’s because I’m bored,
or just because I’m lonely but the reality
of the drama is simply that I like your
hands and the way they seem so absolutely sure.
That’s why there are teardrops on my keyboard.