The Tell

[At first I wrote this as a longer, elaborate, wordier poem. 
But as I read it, I realised I only wanted its essence. 
The rest was fluff.]

What is this, 
a game of poker? 
We're in a place
where no one knows her
And you're hiding 
your cards from me
You don’t tell me 
and I can't see
what you’re holding 
and I’m just in 
the dark. 

But you have a tell.
An obvious one
(even when life's well)
every once in a while
though she may smile
(she's not in the know
and not there yet
and a long way to go)
I hear you cry,
(silently so)
“I want to go home.”

(Written on the last day of NaPoWriMo, but not for it, you know..?)


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