A Game of You

Wear your best face; I’ll wear my freshest–
we’ll lie to each other in sweetest of ways.
Pretense of perfection: we practice entrapment, 
hoping against hope that the other will stay.

Under blanket of fog, with the wind and the rain
we’ll move: two shadows that kiss and depart.
And when it’s all over and the magic has faded,
we’ll remind ourselves why love’s the deadliest art.

(It’s been a long time since I’ve written verse with a classic rhyme-scheme.  Feels sort of fun. :)) )


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