is or isn't?

I make you happy, you say
but it isn't my making, is it,
your bliss?
I am who I am
and it seems to suffice

You make me sad, I think
-- and confusion steps in
with an oily crooked smile,
forced
and forceful,
it grins to me
and I would want to ask:
Is it your making,
my sadness?
You are who you are
and--
oh I don't know...
(my face is all a question mark)

Confusion says naught.