I’ve got a crush on Writing.

It’s bad.

It’s the kind you’re pretty sure would deepen to passion

if just given half a chance.

I’ve been dreaming of him forever,

but I’m afraid and I run

at the first sign of conversation,

never mind a commitment.

Sometimes I get up the nerve

to sit across the room from him,

gazing with longing,

heart pounding,

dropping my lashes coquettishly

every time he looks my way.

But when he approaches,

tries to speak to me,

I excuse myself to the ladies room

for a panic attack.

My best friend seems happily married to Writing.

I know they are still just honeymooning,

getting to know one another,

but anyone can see it’s true love.

I’m afraid to find that I love him,

but he doesn’t love me back.