I Like Winning At This Love Game

Written by Meghan Rennie

I like winning at this love game. 

In my ideal relationship, I keep you in a little box and take you out at playtime. I want you as my toy—affixed like an accessory, indulged in like a delicacy. I’ll love you less than you love me. I want to keep most of the love for myself, amassing a surplus in storage. 

I stuff the emotions I’ve foraged into my safety deposit box. I keep it locked until the next time I see dollar signs jolt up, when you open your mouth and spill compliments like a broken ATM. I’m deep into the red but maintaining my poker face, pretending I don’t need it, don’t need you. 

I pinch pennies. I bite my tongue. I swallow change like a wishing well. It’s hard, playing hard to get, but I will be okay. I know I’m winning at this game. The rattling of coins inside my piggy bank keeps growing. Soon enough it will be louder than the anxious beating of my heart. 

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