The Game

I said that the last time would be the last time
on countless occasions.
I keep giving and you keep taking,
because you’ll never, ever say no.

You know what I’m worth,
and you know what you’d be missing,
should I truly follow through with leaving you behind.
But you don’t care.

So we play this little game where I leave the ball in your court,
knowing that it’s really in mine,
as we wait for the clock to run out.    

     And when it does,
don’t go looking for overtime.
There will be no space or opportunity to make up for all we could’ve had.  

     The love is there,
but our intentions are completely different.
You played for ego,
and I played for keeps.

Poet: Stefanie Parrott

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