Crushing Crushes

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.