My poker lover (poem)
He is my fist lover,a USA poker player. What if we can’t be together forever?
He says he loves me, loves poker.
His hard-working has not made a fortune yet, whereas he’s the only one I care.
He is tall, I am short. It seems we are not compatible. I am not that kind of fools fear it.
He loves his parents so do I as I love mine.
Quarrel is undeniable. Or poker game won’t heal scars we burden otherwise.
I am living under his arms, too far away from unpredictable harm.
Should have met him somewhere, played a few hands, speech won’t find us in that words are too adorable to mean it, they are retired.
He is the one living in my mind.
I am waiting in a raining day, a day he may crawl into my life.
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