Mixed Signals

I'm out of his league.

I'm too good for him.

They tell me out of pity so I can pretend

That he’s the problem.

He’s crazy.

And selfish.

But if that’s truly the case, why do I feel so helpless?

He’s moody.

Yeah, that’s it.

It depends on the day

Whether he’ll notice what I do, what I say.

He laughs.

Out of politeness?

Or because he thinks I'm funny?

He’ll never

Want me

Unless he wants me to listen

To his issues.

His problems.

His, not mine.

Yet I still waste my freedom, my time

For him.

I'd do anything for him.

For this broken, sad excuse for a guy.

Because of

The way he looks at you

Like he’s got this secret waiting to escape

But he’s got it sealed away

As life’s taught him he must keep it.

You can see the cracks in his code, but not enough

Not nearly enough

Never enough to understand

Why

He feels the need to hide who he really is

He feels guilty, submerged in this depression.

He’s a puzzle missing a fourth of the pieces,

A riddle waiting to be solved.

And I've always loved riddles

The way they make you see

 The world differently.

When I see him

All of this confusion enters my mind

And I want it to stop.

I want it to end.

But his eyes seem to tell me:

One day I'll let you in.

This poem is about: 
Me

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