Never was one for playing games
Hide and seek disinterests me
Reeks of disingenuity
Results in discontinuity
And sickens me, quite frankly

 

Think you’re doing service, expecting me to thank thee
Look into these eyes and you will see they look on blankly
Actions may speak loud, but words can do tremendous damage
When spoken as a token of another’s disadvantage
I sit at unrequested vantage
Watching every move you make
Know your game and know it well
You play it every morning break

 

Lovers of the night you say
Do so for deception’s sake
Your thirst to slake does not translate to anything I wish partake in
No mistaking, makes me seethe with rage
Bleed like this on naked page when there are more charmed things to do than playing charmless games with you

 

Desire to know what it is I see
I see straight through you, A to Z and no great shakes
Unwisely undervalued, this sleeping dog doth lie awake
Got too much love inside to waste my days and nights on blinding hate
Thus, I choose to pity
Alas, I long ran dry on sympathy for one whose only claim entails not nearly fail-safe trickery

 

Playing victim, not my thing
And yours is not a dainty dish to set before a king
Ruffling feathers of the learned’s wing
Yet, here within the shadows cast, I’m bound to catch my breath and sing
You fashion cleft and make it sting
Stake claim to do a noble thing as you embrace the bosom of the spring
The thing you fail to fathom is that silent bats in clusters cling
And we all know of the pestilence they bring

 

The only love that blossoms is the one that dares share everything
Quests of cunning tally quick but amass to not a single thing
Influenced by artifice
The point you miss is critical
Think you’re analytical
That you know a love that’s mythical
Hanging from umbilical
Your lack of foresight biblical
Not one to be cynical but magic tricks do not prefix to miracle

 

Slow-working poison
One endless stream of bane that slowly maims creative voices
And to think fate could have been avoided
Had your lips not tasted treason
Left crude trail of bad blood to a hunter blushed in season
Preparing for the gush in spite of melancholy reason
This game you play lends face to shame, gives no first prize for cheating
Pursuit of stealth is truly self-defeating

 

The longer you continue
The more immune I grow to what you do
Howbeit, doesn’t mean that it is ending well for you
Push a good man far enough and you shall learn a bitter truth
Please feel free to call my bluff
Help yourself to side of snuff

 

Go ahead snide, do your worst
Test the waters, spread your curse
I can sleep at nightfall, ever grateful to my blessed worth
Nocturnal you may be but you can not escape your shadow
And should that be the end goal
Then may you swing from self-made gallow

 

Every rose has thorn
Said the king to the pawn
And yes indeed, I live to bleed
After all, it feeds my need to see dead petals fall

 

 

 

 

Richard Charles Stevens

 

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

 

 

 

 

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