The universal gesture for peace

Each time we play cards, I find I have forgotten the names of the suits and their kingdoms, the rules of this game, the first game we played together. I find it awkward to call out that I have won: I find it most awkward when I win, as though I have cheated you somehow- I do not recall the rules of the game, and yet somehow, I find myself in a position hardly deserved. Where do we go from here? For I have won and yet feel the desire to call a truce: lay down my cards for you, show you my hand, hold up the white flag: please, I do not know what game we are playing anymore; our first is bleeding into our last, and I cannot distinguish whether the game has ended even when you return the deck to its box. Please lay down your hand too, show me your palms, tell me explicitly what you know and what you think, and most importantly, how you see me in this moment. Please see my white flag. I am melting through my skin into this pub bench, and I cannot understand the words you speak or the words and faces that are expected of me in return. In moments of company, I can do little more than observe; I am not bitter- I prefer to listen. And yet my silence comes across as coyness or sometimes hostility. Please see that this is not my poker face. I am not holding my cards under the table. At my most silent, all my cards are laid bare for you: I permit you to read them and interpret them, for I do not remember the rules of this game even though you may have taught me many times. Are we still playing?