Games I Play With Myself (A Poem)

Why must you
taunt me?
Little devil.
Smile mischievously as you
disappear behind yet
another wall.
My legs are tired and what do you
have there
in your hands?
What are you hiding?
Taunting me,
teasing me to come
closer,
and closer.
Why must you
tease me?
Little wise one.
Your eyes twinkle like you
already know.
My anger builds.
Always out of
reach.
I give up.
Surrender.
My legs are tired, I
cannot chase you
today.
And just as I resign, as I
sit defeated
refusing to chase
and letting myself
rest,
you emerge
all serious,
your hands behind your back,
your eyes holding the
universe,
they twinkle.
And you show me
empty hands.
And you run away
behind that wall,
eyes so mischievous again.
And I, so worn and furious,
I shout to you,
Why?
Why did you lie to me?
Why did you make me
chase you, grow weary,
worn,
to
get nothing?
And you giggle.
Your one eye out of sight,
your hand wound round the
corner.
And you say,
whisper,
like you
were waiting
for me to ask you
all along.
“To
teach you how to
lose,
so you could play
for fun.”
And then you beckon me,
finger outstretched,
and I laugh.
The sort of laugh that
tears the fabric of
time and
space.
Yes.
Now, I can play.
My smile mischievous,
I’m ready to
play
now.