the inevitable

*thirty-seven

i am so fucking tired of being your opponent.
your angry eyes flicker across the board
with cards in hand
i can see your mind making plan after plan
strategy after strategy to find the best option.
your motions are rooted in fluidity
every step has me cornered to no beyond.
my cards are useless and i'm confusing the rules.
i'm so fucking tired of trying to fight you.
behind my cards i glance up at your face.
your eyebrow furrowed with motivation your eyes set on the prize.
when will it be time to see that i've wanted nothing more than the set the cards down.
i'm tired of playing games over
something i had never meant to start.
your words implement into my thoughts
my actions are no longer mine.
i've lost the rhythm of my words and are tainted with your slick vocabulary.
i've turned my own against me and i've left with nothing but conflicting thoughts and tears running down my dejected tears.
everything sounds hopeless and something everyone has heard before.
it's the song overplayed on the radio or
the book that wasn't all that
good in the long run.
i don't leave myself room to run and instead find myself seated across from you, five cards rested in my palm wishing that this table wasn't between us.
i know that you could have taught me everything i know.
i pick up the pieces.
and fit them to my own.
i grow upon you, even when it's the scraps of what everyone hates the most.
i stare into the reflection and see that you keep me whole.
how can something so whole and content be pulling me apart?
just another girl with the words that everyone's heard before.
nothing makes sense.