I never knew
I was in a game
until I realized that I was playing
with a strategist
who knew where to hit, the angle to shoot from
what my Achilles heel was,
the most fragile part to touch
a witty ***** who tickled my inner sleuth,
poked my curiosity
i started gathering
dates, hours, minutes, seconds,
mixed signals,
distorted paragraphs,
slurred sentences,
and
ambiguous words
like a bunch of clues
and then i would act like Sherlock
as if you’re a case to crack
and you knew that I don’t give up on my cases
until they’re closed
well, i guess
i was just right not telling
you something you were always
blithely aware of
that
the ticket to my heart will always
be through my thoughts
being the clever ******* that you were,
you already knew what would pester me consistently
you must have wanted to torment me so much
**that you
made
yourself
a
“what if”