It's just a game. A game that we play
or maybe it's better described as a test,
a test to see who will first give way,
to see who can fake not caring best.
It's a game to see who can shock the other,
to see who will make the first move fatal,
who'll pull back the other, keep them from going further
and see who is easier to confuse and to rattle.
It's just a game. A game like chess
one of careful, careful (always careful) antics,
to make sure at the end of the day you've shown less,
played harder, played smarter and used stranger tactics.
It's a game quite a bit like poker,
Who can bluff, who can hide their reaction?
And the time to show your cards comes never.
How can it when the game's always in motion?
The game that we play is a little bit twisted,
to befuddle your opponent, to confuse.
Nothing's against the rules; nothing's blacklisted.
There's only a single rule: Don't lose.
The game's situation is really very easy
We're trapped in a strange relationshop
and your main objective is to get a rise out of me
and mine is to make sure my composure doesn't slip.
The game's played at parties,
darkness, drugs liqour and dance.
You're so certain of your own victory,
you make you move without making plans.
Your hands everywhere on a beautiful body.
Not mine. And yet you lock eyes deliberately.
"What do you think?" you mouth to me.
I refuse to blush. Looking straight back I say "Nice."
Your eyes are still locked on me. I sense confusion.
But only for a second before it disappears.
And so a game begins, lots and lots of fun
but not understood by any one of our peers.
And for the sake of the game, you don't discriminate.
Last time it was a girl, but this time it's a boy you kiss
and as you do, you keep you eyes on me, your 'date'
to see if I take a step back, if I falter, if I miss.
Next time you change the game, raise the stakes.
Ask me to kiss another and then raise your brow
daring me to tell you dating was a mistake
and that I was ready to leave the game, to go.
But I played the game and I was damn good.
And the taste of victory when I was done
was far sweeter than any lips ever could.
Even more delicious were your words, "You won."
You never said them aloud but they were implied
when you broke up with me tired and pale.
And then when I stayed even then by your side
as your friend, it was implied that it was your fail.
It's just a twisted, crazy game we play
not understood by all the rest.
Well you were the first to give way.
Just so you know, that means I'm the best.
Yes, this poem was totally inspired by Holly Black's book : The Coldest Girl in Coldtown. If you get the chance you should definitely pick it up.
Moving on (in other words, let's talk about me, me, me), what did you think about the poem. I would love to have your opininon whether it is good, bad or ugly.
