Broken dreams
The ink was wet upon the page,
A quiet contract, set in stage,
But only when I dared to ask
Did you reveal the hidden mask.
You played the hand with practiced grace,
Adjusting rules to fit your space,
While I, with hope still burning thin,
Just sought a place to start again.
I dreamt of rising, clean and new,
To build a life, to see it through,
Yet deep within, I knew the cost—
Before I played, the game was lost.
You held the trick card, cold and bright,
To turn the morning into night,
And though I fought to have my say,
You carved the board another way.
The dust is settled, silence falls,
The shadow stretches off the walls.
No need for further argument,
Or counting where the spirit went.
The ledger closes, firm and spun,
The final tally has begun.
I leave the table, hollowed, thin—
It’s over now. You win. You win.
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Author:
Friendship (
Offline) - Published: June 30th, 2026 17:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 41
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, peto, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments5
I hear you
thank you
Nicely worded it reads of a fixed game already determined before it started. Deception seen as the trump card. Well written
This one speaks to the heart and the daring to dream 🕊️🙏🏻
Thank you
Most welcome, Friendship
Thought you were more of a fighter than this suggests friendship
Fantastic writing as per
Very emotional
Thank you, my friend.
Friendship, this really moved me. The recurring imagery of contracts, ledgers, cards, and game boards creates a powerful thread of betrayal and imbalance, while the closing repetition, "You win. You win," lands with quiet finality. A deeply affecting piece, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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