Let’s play a game.
Hey, boy, left of the dealer, deal me some cards,
But take out the jokers because even though I like funny guys,
I don’t wanna be dealt any of your cheap moves.

Instead, deal me the aces.
Deal me the kings, queens, and jacks because
I want the best of what you’ve got.
Even deal me the twos and threes because, honestly,
I want to know what you’re not.

And if you don’t have two of a kind, that’s okay-
I’ll have a match.
We’ll pair up our hearts
Because together we will pump more life into this world.
Share our twos and threes
Because exposing our weaknesses will lead to a stronghold.
Sell our diamonds because
Pretty, petty things will only lead to a belief in the value of fool’s gold.

We’ll de-clare war.
Grab the spades and clubs because love is more than just a game for two.
It is a battlefield.

And by the look in your eyes you’ve been shot by too many queens of hearts with cupid’s arrow.
So show me your scars.
Open heart surgery won’t hurt that much.
C’mon, we’ll play operation.
I’ll be the doctor, and you’ll be the patient.
Hand me the scalpel,
don’t scream now,
I might have forgotten the anesthesia.

But don’t worry,
Laughter is the best medicine.
And I am funny.
Trust me.
Trust me, trust me, trust me.
Open yourself up because this scalpel just isn’t working.

What queen of hearts decided she could steal yours?
Give me a clue.
Was it Mrs. White in the kitchen with the rope?
Mrs. Peacock in the ballroom with the dagger?
It was Mrs. Scarlett in the coat closet?

No, no, no.
Don’t bump me back to start-- I’m sorry.

Our pasts are not taboo.
Every why or what or who has merely been a teetering, tottering
domino set in place along my ribcage.
Waiting for you to tip the first barrier and clear the path to my heart.

We can treat this like a slow game of Jenga.
Building slowly until we run out of blocks and then we’ll stop.
Because taking turns tearing it down can come later.
And by later I mean maybe, hopefully, possibly never.

Or…we could just play Uno.
Tossing all our
matches into a messy pile.
Using our wild cards to avoid drawing anything that might drag us back into the game,
Reverse cards, skip your next turn cards,
It’s all the same.

But that’s okay because I know this game of risk is just a temporary thrill.
It’s the missing first kisses, the oh baby it’s you I can’t resist,
and the oh god my broken heart wants to jump off all of these suicidal bridges.
This game will end.
Because this isn’t love.
It’s really just teenage betting-on-an-ace-of-hearts pretend.