ROMANCE Poem: When you play your cards right, by B. Seren

Listen.
Not with your ears,
but with the cracks in your ribs,
the hollow places that still echo
with the names of those
who mistook your love
for a game they could win.

I’m not talking to the you
that smiles and says, “I’m fine.”
I’m talking to the you
that knows love shouldn’t taste
like blood on your tongue
from biting back the words,
“Why am I never enough?”

Slow down.
The love you’re starving for,
the kind that stays,
the kind that doesn’t flinch
when your storms roll in,
doesn’t come dressed in apologies
or half-hearted promises.
It doesn’t scream.
It doesn’t beg.
It doesn’t leave.

It comes like dawn,
silent, inevitable,
painting the sky in colors
you forgot existed.

I know what you’ve been told:
That love is supposed to hurt,
to leave you gasping,
to make you prove your worth
over and over and over.
They’re gonna love you ’cause you’re beautiful,
but it’s another reason why they wanna hurt you.
I’ve seen what that does to a soul,
how it turns a heart into a battlefield,
how it makes you kneel
at the feet of those
who never learned to pray.

Your light?
It terrifies them.
Because you don’t just shine,
you expose.
And some people
would rather live in shadows
than face the brilliance
of what they could be
if they ever dared to try.

So, hold your cards close.
Not out of fear,
but because you’ve learned
not every hand deserves your truth.
Let them earn the right
to see your scars,
not as proof of your pain,
but as maps to your survival.

Wait.
Not for the one who says “I love you”
between drinks and empty hands,
but for the one who stays
when the music stops,
when the crowd leaves,
when the world goes quiet
and all that’s left
is the raw, unpolished truth of you.

Wait for the one
who doesn’t just love your fire,
but guards it,
feeds it,
kneels beside it
on the nights you forget
how to burn.

This isn’t about luck.
This is about knowing
when to walk away from the table
when the stakes are your soul.
This is about recognizing
that the right love
doesn’t leave you trembling,
it steadies you.

And when it comes?
You won’t have to ask,
“Is this it?”
You’ll know.
Not because the world stops,
but because for the first time,
you realize
it’s finally safe
to let it spin.