all reds and blacks.

Queen of Hearts,
Ace of Spades,
fluttering around the wastebasket,
like butterflies or bluebirds,
or as autumn leaves.

Flicking them,
all reds and blacks,
from the edge of bed,
swathed in silence,
lullabied by rain.

A cigarette smolders,
on a clay pot,
growing cold,
upon an antique dresser,
beside a colder mattress.

It’s not mine.
Neither is the guitar in the corner.
Nor is the rain, his tears,
the playing cards,
nor even the game we play.


14 thoughts on “all reds and blacks.

  1. I don’t know if I believe the speaker. Seems to me the Queen got into bed knowing the aim of the game. Is she entirely innocent? She may even be winning while Ace is left believing he has the lead and that his bed is warm. ~ Love the provoked thoughts. Glad I’m following.

    1. I’m glad you’re following, too. 🙂 You make a good point and I always thoroughly enjoy your alternate point of view. No, she would not be entirely innocent if the aim of the game was getting into bed. But maybe she’s speaking of words that came before he did. 😛

      1. Poor Ace, huh. He’s got the guitar, the bed and the game, but the Queen’s thoughts are still the King’s? I, Jack, have done the same to a spade. I let her win though. 😉

        Rape Van… visceral.

    1. Lmao, no worries. I fixed it. 😉 And I like that – maybe the speaker will let this one win.

      I was unsure about the “visceral” post, and I agree with you. But I figured I cannot be butterflies and bluebirds all the time. 😛

      1. Ah, I now “believe” you edited my “believing” as well. Felt as “though” I had lost my mind. I thank you a whole bunch of butterflies and bluebirds. Nice touch with the parenthese, (wo)man!

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