I play my heart cards close to my chest, one
hand firmly holding its smooth yet cold edges, another
dropping to their lap
to rest and warm my fingertips.
Diamonds twinkle in their glasses
as their eyes look through me and assess my hand.
They flicker back and
discard some spades.
I draw a club.
I sigh out its heaviness,
detach its utility from my chest
and shed it off.
But the hearts remain still
encased and
away from their glinting eyes.
I'm almost out of discards
and my options are always narrower.
But this heart meld won't be in disarray
(i tell myself),
it'll be either under my firm grasp
(close, so close to my chest)
or laid off on the table, bare for their flirting appraisal.
Soon, i think.
But then they meld their cards away,
its diamonds scattered through the plain
surface, their face conclusive:
a shy heart game, a shed club
and that is all.
I keep my heart cards close to my chest, but
they win, so they take my hand and my hearts with it.