I search for things to cloud my mind, <br />to maintain a dulling of the pain. <br />The suffering is drowning, <br />but the sense of self is ever-growing. <br /> <br />The air smells sweeter one layer up. <br />We drink in different moons: <br />his tall stature, my petite frame. <br /> <br />How can I go on loving—when the loving is not returned? <br />Restraint is power, he has the upper hand. <br />Keeps it in his back-pocket <br />where the luck is secure.<br /><br />S.J. Goldner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/savvy-gambler-the/
