The game of love is well played
By fools and hooligans alike.
The battlefield is dangerous, covered
With bleeding hearts and broken souls.
Never to return whole.
These are a player's goal.
In this game you should
Trust no one
Thy enemy is thyself. One's
Weapons are engineered words,
Whispered across candle lit dinner tables
And under silk sheets of sex.
Your shield is thy knowledge and
Thy success comes from experience.
Far away the danger cannot be seen.
Entry is granted by one's beauty.
Money is one of thy greatest help and
Foolish are those who believe otherwise.
I sincerely hope you succeed because
The prize is too scandalous to reveal.
YOU ARE READING
The Game
PoetryRomance and lies go hand in hand. Neither exist without the other. Their link could never be broken Bond so tightly, some know Neither one from the other.
