and she used to eat flowers

c r u s h e s

Daydream about him in class,

Doodle his name in your heart.

His presence making your heart laugh. 

Your confession could be the start. 

Or it could be the end. 

Scared of ending before starting,

I'd rather stay as friends.

Worse occurs:

people die, words slurs,

orphan kids, injustice,

but still, blood drip from my heart as pomace.

Bittersweet moments. 

Times you stay awake smiling and excited.

His words a bestowment. 

His laugh, I delighted. 

Eyes, focused, not on me.  

Compliments and flattery, I did not see. 

What am I missing? 

Nothing! I disagree. 

Insecurities loom.

This isn't a crush, this is one-side love.

But my affection doesn't run deep enough.

It isn't love. 

He wasn't a crush.

He wasn't my love.

He wasn't a fling. 

He was a pastime. 

Where my mind could wander. 

When I didn't want to face reality. 

When I wasn't here.