Gambling On The Game Of Love Poem by eastin woodelle

like the game of ruelette
i am back to where i started
thoughts spinning round and round
landing back on when we parted
round and round we go
but where we land this time,
no one knows

i tend to be a high bidder
but its different this time
my whole pot is in
along with my whole heart
on the line

its a continuous cycle of losing streaks
with that very rare win
but to gain that incredible sum
only leads me to false confidence
so persisting farther and betting more
i continue to be dumb

i shouldve never told you
my secret lucky numbers
i shouldve never let you see
what i truly felt inside

now i suffer guilt, rejection and doubt
for your responce to me
and what you feel about me
has not yet come out

i cannot let you trick me
into rolling your inconsistant ball again
for that spinning table hurts me
and allows far too much time for me to pretend