#ThrowbackThursday Poetry: Ode to My [Former] Crush

It’s Thursday, which means it’s time for another blast from the past. This poem was part of my No Holds Barred Poetry Writing Challenge back in 2015. Originally posted January 27, 2015, it’s a bit of an embarrassing love poem with my iconic sinister twist, back when aggressive, possessive, borderline abusive love was the kind of love I craved (or at least wrote about—don’t judge me).

The guy I originally wrote this poem for is actually getting married . . . and not to me . . . not that I care—I don’t even like him like that anymore. I even deleted him as a friend on Facebook—not in a vindictive, love-scorned crazy lady kind of way; he just rarely posted anything. Oh, the fickleness of teenage love. (Yes, I still feel like a teenager when it comes to love and crushes and finding Mr. Right. See the original post to get the joke.)

I’ve gotten better at love poems since then. In fact, I spent the whole second half of February writing black love poems (some tainted with our darker histories), and the last few love poems I’ve written are actually quite beautiful. They’re not as twisted as my earlier ones (like that one about the woman who strangles her cheating husband while he eats a raw steak . . . Sorry guys, never posted that one).

This poem was originally untitled, but I thought to give it a catchy title that’s a bit of a throwback itself. I hope you enjoy the poem, and please don’t try to figure out who the guy is. Trust me when I say any feelings I had for him are loooong gone!


Ode to My [Former] Crush

You make my legs weak
my palms sweat
my feet tingle
my nipples harden at night
when I lay in bed
dreaming of you—
these are the clichés you search
for to describe a crush
infatuation
first love.
I feel none of these things—
only you
and the indescribable desire
to be near you.
Tell me how I should feel—
snatch me up in your arms
thrust me into your love poem
discard the clichés
show me the reality of passion
how it relates to pain
take control of my heart—
sweet nothings don’t affect me—
squeeze my heart in your fist
whisper commands
how should I love
where should I touch
Don’t just kiss me
take my lips in your mouth
suck them blue.
Give me a reason to
succumb to you.

—Nortina

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