Crush Poem by Julia Iwanetzki

CRUSH.
In my teenage fragility,
I had a crush.
A poised deception of love,
draining every fiber of my being,
Everything that made me,
Me.

For him.
I dissected myself.
into my smallest atoms,
stripped away,
every single proton,
every single electron,
all the colors of my soul.
Left nothing more
than gray aimless neutrons.

My soul's once vibrantly colored canvas
became blank.
As if the artist painting my soul,
got trapped in a limbo
of choked thought.

CRASH.
It crushed me,
into microscopic puzzle pieces
scattered around the infinite universe.
Preventing me from ever
putting the pieces back together.
So I attempted to assemble
the leftover fragments
into a sculpture of his ideal girl.

CRUSHED.
And the worst chapter,
of this tragic fairytale?
Perhaps the pitiable truth
that it was all for nothing.
Nothing more than an unseen ghost,
was I in the play of his life.
Not even an insignificant supporting role.
I was no one to him.
And he crushed me.

No, the worst chapter,
is this:
I never loved him.
Not even liked him.
I chose him solely,
to fill a void lingering inside,
with moths disguised as butterflies.
No love existed, solely obsession.
I molded him like clay
inside my impassioned mind.
As a distraction from the malignant spirits,
howling inside my mind.
He made my soul dance pirouettes
around a draining obsession.
Which was never real.
Which I never wished to be real.

CRUSH.
Nevertheless,
It enlightened me.
I identified myself once more
and never before
I loved myself more
and I gained powerful wisdom:
I have no need
for a crush or any man
to make my sparkling soul
feel whole and complete.