So the pain held within threatened to escape. Was it safer for the hurt to remain or to let it free? I swallowed the disgusting mucus back. The truth is much harder to swallow. What now? Should I show my hand or remain as emotionless as a poker player? Should I bet everything of value just to prove the cards in my hand will win? Game after game, hand after hand I bet my greatest asset; my heart. Some of the players regarded it as of some value. But you, you argued and pleaded that my love was worthless. You tried to convince the other players that there was nothing to gain from my heart that I placed on the gambling table. The green as soft as moss. I rubbed it with my fingertips gently enjoying the softness of the poker table. Of course no one was there as I relished in the feeling. Just me. Just my heart. Laying on this table waiting for someone to win it all, including the one thing that I held dearest; my heart. I watched him spread his hand across the mossy green table with such pride and reverence. The goosebumps rose on my arms.
He lost.
And he didn’t care. He proudly displayed his losing hand as a sign he was not interested in the goods being gambled. He never wanted what was being bet. It did not bother him at all that he had lost.
I lost.
I hoped that if I gambled my heart that maybe he would fight for it. I took the chance with one of my primary organs believing that he would bite the bait.
He had absolutely no interest in winning the pot.
I could no longer contain the love and affection I had for this man and I bet it on this poker table. And he dismissed my advances. He dismissed my heart. He completely ignored my efforts to let him win the thing most dearest to me.
How does that make me feel?
Inadequate. Unworthy. A failure.
All I ever wanted was for this man to accept my love and allow it to heal his wounds. That is all.
But instead I was persecuted.
His rationale was how could a broken person be of any worth to him?
He was right.
But he was wrong in thinking that a broken person couldn’t make him whole.
He was wrong in thinking my heart laid upon that table was worthless.
I cried.
I wept.
I pulled my body into fetal position and held myself tightly.
I could not possibly retract my bet. I could only watch as each players’ hands were spread across the moss.
I won.
He lost.
He sat back in his folded chair not caring. He could afford this loss.
I wanted him to win. I wanted him to see just how valuable the bet on the table was. I put my all on that poker table.
I lost.
He won.
And that’s how love goes.
Just Kaz LLC 