Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Yesterday's lies fell like the cards
from the sleeve of a dying gambler
clutching a pair of deuces to his chest
while kings and aces littered the floor.
He was dealt a decent hand
but played her badly.
When she upped the anti
He should have folded
but foolishly raised the stakes
hoping to call her bluff.
A big mistaken
At the flop he showed his hand.
Claiming honesty as the one-eyed jack
She flushed him out,
but didn't celebrate.
The *** was full of chips
each one shattered from her heart.
mark john junor Aug 2014
a hot number and
you could see the dice smokin
her luck was on fire
life was a flash in the pan sweet
the glory of the hot hand
hounded when its thin
celebrated when its speakin
she walks with a swagger
and clutches the wages of her sin
alone on the pinnacle of power
looking down on the pretty city lights
plunder at her feet
her thoughts turn once again
to the real
how a single turn of the cards
could change it all
how the glory of the hot hand is so fleeting
see the cards turn her to cold stone
plunge her to the depths
but oh god that feeling
the glory of the hot hand

— The End —