Damn my heart

I Have a Crush Again, Damn It All

My soul feels black and barren—putrid, rotten, fettered. I yearn to give the love I wish I could receive to anybody. To the one person I wish would look at me—but who never does. Who even cares anymore?

I feel like I’m on a one-way trip to annihilation. And even if there were a stop button, I’m not sure I’d press it. I’d probably break down at one compliment. Cry over just a list—just three reasons someone loved me.

My heart feels like a factory that’s been broken down for years. I’m not sure if it could ever get started again. If somebody loved me, would it even turn on? Would it beat?

I can’t say. My heart looks as black as coal, and harder than stone. God, I feel pathetic—the way her notification on my phone lights up my face like a dog seeing its master’s return. I feel disgusted with myself for wanting. I don’t deserve someone like her.

But the brain still yearns—for something of its own. To belong to somebody, even if just for a minute, just to get a moment of peace. But I doubt it. Jealousy—consuming and cruel—crumples the flower of love before it blooms. I can’t take it.

But who cares?

I don’t know anymore. I don’t even know why I came here to write this. This is only the second poem I’ve ever written. Though, honestly, it feels more like a one-way therapy session. Just speaking what I feel, to something—or someone—that probably won’t even respond.

But again—who cares