In spite of my
age
I can’t ever seem
to turn this certain page,
And I wonder,
Will I ever grow
up?
How I like,
You said it’s
endearing,
You said you want
to be liked like that,
Leaving me
wondering why I engaged in
this repertoire
with you in the first place.
You see,
It happens ever
so gradually…
A smile there, a
compliment here,
Eye contact over
there, registering him in your peripheral vision everywhere,
And all of a
sudden I don't even have to be there
To know I would
rather be nowhere
With him,
Then without.
It's illogical.
She listed all
the irksome qualities about him,
Pointed to them,
underlined them, heck even highlighted them…
And you know what
I had the audacity to do it?
I spray painted
the four things I liked about him,
In block capitals…
And that was
that.
I told the boy
about the other boy,
Told him about
the butterflies,
“Awwwwww”
How I couldn't
speak properly around him,
“That’s nice.”
Like all the
bloody butterflies in my chest managed to choke me when I was around him,
“Oh.”
And this was how I
always crushed.
She mustn’t like me that much; she doesn't talk to me
as much as she talks to him.
And with this
sentiment, my crush crushed me.
