Am I Well? in Gathering of Poetry and Fiction

Oh dear,
Sometimes I forget which game I am playing.
Does it even matter?

I don’t know why I am like this.
Itching to play.
Perhaps I just miss you.
Busy rueing the day.

You’d think after all this time,
It wouldn’t matter,
Now the idea that it could,
Makes me think myself a hatter.

Pills I’ve tried,
Therapy too,
Avoidance won’t work,
Even death didn’t do.

You think he’d realize,
After all this time,
His tricks were mine first,
Silly golden dime.

Slick as a fox,
Are you now?
Seems I know much about you,
Yet you can’t figure out how?

If I had what I seek,
That frank conversation I dream of,
Would I then have the courage?
To speak of love?

It’s unlikely I feel,
Under this mask,
You’ve terrified me,
Too much to ask.

Yet my heart won’t let go,
You shine like a beacon,
What is this thing?
Seems it can’t be beaten.

Who is this boy,
Holding my attention,
I seek him everywhere,
Could I be smitten?

It hardly matters,
The fire’s burnt out,
I’m crying over coals,
Too cold to shout.

This rushed poem,
Could continue forever,
Without actualy,
Saying what matters.