Vegas, baby

My face flashes from grimacing to batting lashes,
from hope to fear, from please to thanks,
to challenging, to I

love you.

Vulnerability is the Russian roulette,
and I
am the lottery-

each muscle of my face a slot initiating,

reacting. My cocked head connects,
eyebrows mirror, lips probe,

and I ask, and I try, and I give, and I take, and- Do you
love me?

Will you keep me safe?

I don’t know, 
so I stack the deck, though,
hooked by the hand that you dealt me once,

I flash my eyes,
let you hold my shifting gaze,
and I always bet.

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