The Enigma

That I curse his name in frustration.

I replay everything he says until I can quote it word for word.

I think of him inconsistently, sometimes only once a week and sometimes very hour of the day.

I make up memories that we never had nor will.

I was the first person hoping for his relationship to end.

I text him but, never hit send.

I convince every fiber of my being that I don’t feel that way.

I slowly break down when I wonder what could be.

I wrote him a letter confessing everything but it’s still saved on my computer.

I delete all his texts when they don’t say what I want.

I put words in his mouth to give myself a reason to blame him.

I fight the urge to admit this to myself.

I avoid him just so we don’t have to have the same conversation repeatedly.

I’ve been feeling this way for awhile.

I will never tell him this because it’s better if he doesn’t know,

That I might love him.  

I will keep this poem locked up in my heart, the one place he won’t look. 

Because he is an enigma and I am conundrum

 And "I love you" will always be a paradox.