When the game began between them for a jest,
He played king and she played queen to match the best;
Laughter soft as tears, and tears that turned to laughter,
These were things she sought for years and sorrowed after.
Pleasure with dry lips, and pain that walks by night;
All the sting and all the stain of long delight;
These were things she knew not of, that knew not of her,
When she played at half a love with half a lover.
Time was chorus, gave them cues to laugh or cry;
They would kill, befool, amuse him, let him die;
Set him webs to weave to-day and break to-morrow,
Till he died for good in play, and rose in sorrow.
What the years mean; how time dies and is not slain;
How love grows and laughs and cries and wanes again;
These were things she came to know, and take their measure,
When the play was played out so for one man's pleasure.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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- 2009-11-16 @ 19:29:59
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- 2009-11-16 @ 23:09:11
"One man (and woman) in is life plays many parts."
Few people see beyond the mask.

jollyweez
At first, it was juvenile play-acting.
Which was lots of fun.
As the years progressed, those feelings gathered a
maturity. A reality.
Until that time when the gathered years have
given her experience, understanding and thus,
her facade becomes a performance of real life.