Hands Close to the Vest

In a smokey room
Here too we are similar
Sipping on our drinks

Negotiating
Each eyeing our upmost hand
And fighting for it

With words and movements
I feel there's something I missed
"Master of Parley"

More like a Mistress
Your eyes always sparkled so
Like that jeweled bracelet

I feel you sense it
Somewhere in the middle rounds
Seeing through (my/your) eyes

Resistance shifted
Like a record switching sides
And playing backwards

You would be winning
I had never doubted it
Now I was your prize

"You were always mine"
Whispered and laced with false guile
In a room like this 

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