Picture, a woman holding her right hand up, telling someone not to approach her any further. The same time, with her left hand she’s waving this person to come towards her. This is your poem. It’s confusing, but real and happens in many relationships. No yeses and no nos, just a lot of maybes. You make up my mind and I’ll make up yours.

Sounds more like you’re talking to a memory of him to me, and chiding yourself for it

Unfortunately, he returned into my life. This is my passive aggression seeping into a page of pixels