Queen of Hearts and Spades

My lover is more in love with the
Queen of spades
Than me --
The Queen of hearts
But he’s addicted to both of us
So I drew a spade
And stitched it on my being
And he wondered where his heart was going
Who would it belong to then?
I drew his sword and bladed him
And stitched him a diamond
And he revolted
He said a heart and a spade could belong to the same person
It belonged to me long ago
With him
Or some other lover
And he kept painting it on some other woman
So he renamed me
Willie Nelson Jr.’s girlfriend
And said he had more than one woman
He said even though there was only a tiny bit of spade in me
My heart was enough
To keep him going on Sundays
And he would keep me alive rather than buried
A secret no more
A piece of fine silver
With darkness in her aura for him
Painted on my soul
He liked it
Who cares if he has a heart?
I do
He was a heart to me also before he was a spade
His shadow now stands taller than anyone I know
But I thought furor his way when he pretends weak
As if I never knew him
I think he knew me buried this time
And I revolted about it
Writing poetry
And swimming in pain and bore
Til I met him a more interesting character by far
Traited as well
Til he met me a more interested dame by far
Traited much better
How do you do?
Alike as well
He now once met me as a heart with a bit of spade on her
And we dovetailed
The poetry about ourselves is a bit dark
Even with all the other figurine women.