I love crushes. I do.
I know that ‘crush’ is a childish word, but it fits.
Crushes are something unique, intense and heart breaking, capable of making you soar, all dreamy-light, and equally capable of sending you crashing face first into the dirt. They usually don’t have intent, not really, realism is too mundane for a crush. They are fanciful, whimsical, the object of your crush can be completely untouchable, might be a word, a voice, a perception, an image. It’s sometimes even better when you never see the whole, just snippets flitting briefly into the light, enough to be luminous.
Being crushed on is a special kind of flattery, I absolutely adore it, it makes me purr with pleasure. It swirls around and over me, and it has a particular texture, smoothly rich and creamy. It tastes like caramel and fresh sea air, sweet and salty. It turns my head, makes me floaty and smiley, makes me want to touch gently, just to see what will happen, to blow kisses and have them caught softly on a turned cheek. Crushes are often shy, they blush and spin madly when you turn eyes their way, and sometimes they offer it up and then quickly run away, leaving the sweetness behind, untraceable and abandoned.
Crushes, oh my. Yes please.