Love Is A Gambler Poem by david stansfield

Flesh is fragile
Rips with ease
Blood is a potion
That makes you weak at the knees
Weakness is a habit
That lays you bare
To the voices of reason
When ther'es no-one there

Truth is the moon
On a snowblind night
Or a bare white wall
When your drink's been spiked
The tongue is a weapon
That can wound the heart
Or a serpent of pleasure
Sliding through the dark

Wounds are the hands
Where the sun shone through
High on a hill
For me and you
Pain is the gift
Of the taste of tears
Rich in sorrow
Fed on fear

But love is a gambler
On a winning streak
Who rides his luck
Who plays for keeps
Holds the Queen of Hearts
And never sleeps
With strangers

(c) David Stansfield 2008