I Thought
I thought
That having a crush
Was supposed to make you feel
Wonderful.
Giddy, fluttery, walking-on-air;
It's supposed to make you
Happy.
But all it's done for me is
Make my blemishes
Grow
And multiply
As I stare at them
In the mirror.
Worrying, fretting,
"What will he think? "
Hating myself for caring.
Is this how it's
Supposed to be?
I'd rather just get a dog.