u/Willing_Judge

You took my breath away
So now i cant suck in my stomach around you anymore

I know you,
but I don’t truly know you.
It’s impossible to forget
the person you’ve given so many firsts.

For the first time,
I added someone’s country
to my weather app,
just so I’d have a topic to talk about

For the first time,
I showed somebody my body
and couldn’t stop smiling
when you praised me

For the first time,
I saved someone’s photos,
staring at them
with admiration,
longing,
and quiet sadness.

For the first time,
I felt seen.
You’re everything I want,
yet somehow
not someone I believe
I’m worthy of.

So I placed you
high above me
on a pedestal
you never asked for,
built from my own desire.

I crave you
with a hunger
that is both romantic
and painfully physical.

Even so,

I don’t know the sound of your laughter.

I don’t know
how you look
when you cry.

I don’t know
what your eyes would say
if they ever met mine.

I don’t know your soul.

I want to know you
inside and out.
But I can’t.
Maybe I never will.

To me,
you’re everything I want
and everything
I shouldn’t indulge in.

Pleasure
wrapped in guilt.

Like a moth
circling a flame.

Like a drug
I keep returning to,
desperate
to feel that first high again.

I use the thought of you
to make lonely nights
feel less lonely.

When I touch myself,
it’s your face I imagine.

You’re my pleasure.
My desire.

But somewhere
between lust
and fantasy,

I wished
I were the one
pouring my heart out to you.

I wished
you thought of me
with the same intensity
as the poems I read
on limerence.

How longing for you makes me greedy.

Yet even then,
these feelings
refuse to fade.

I want to see your smile
when you stop
to photograph
the little beautiful things
Mother Nature leaves behind.

I want to see your pretty eyes
looking up at me
when you go down on me.

I want to watch you
pause for a stray cat,
grinning
as it leans into your hand.

I want to fall asleep
beside you naked.
Our bodies warm beneath the sheets,
a movie forgotten
as we drift off together.

I want you
to want me
as much as I want you.

But more than anything,

I want to see you
simply as yourself.

Not the fantasy
I’ve created.

Not the photographs
I’ve memorized.
And maybe,
just once,

I want you
to look at me
with the same admiration
I’ve spent countless nights
giving to your face
through a screen.

I want.
But I can’t.

Even after giving you
pieces of myself
I had never shown anyone

my body,
my secrets,
my darkest desires,

I am still
a stranger.

Am I naive
to think
that you could be
the love of my life?

Probably.

But I can’t deny
what you’ve awakened in me.

The rawest parts
of being human.

The ache
of missing someone
I never truly had.

The way
your pictures
overwhelm me
until my emotions spill over,
until I hit the floor,
the wall,
throw my phone aside,
as if physical pain
might quiet
the storm you’ve stirred inside me.

I didn’t know
I could feel
this deeply.

This intensely.
This endlessly.

I am someone
who yearns
for years.

Someone who loves
long after
there is reason to.

In the end,
Suppressing these feelings
doesn’t make them disappear.

It only makes me feel
like I’m betraying
the truest part of myself.

I know you,
but I don’t truly know you.
It’s impossible to forget
the person you’ve given so many firsts.

For the first time,
I added someone’s country
to my weather app,
just so I’d have a topic to talk about

For the first time,
I showed somebody my body
and couldn’t stop smiling
when you praised me

For the first time,
I saved someone’s photos,
staring at them
with admiration,
longing,
and quiet sadness.

For the first time,
I felt seen.
You’re everything I want,
yet somehow
not someone I believe
I’m worthy of.

So I placed you
high above me
on a pedestal
you never asked for,
built from my own desire.

I crave you
with a hunger
that is both romantic
and painfully physical.

Even so,

I don’t know the sound of your laughter.

I don’t know
how you look
when you cry.

I don’t know
what your eyes would say
if they ever met mine.

I don’t know your soul.

I want to know you
inside and out.
But I can’t.
Maybe I never will.

To me,
you’re everything I want
and everything
I shouldn’t indulge in.

Pleasure
wrapped in guilt.

Like a moth
circling a flame.

Like a drug
I keep returning to,
desperate
to feel that first high again.

I use the thought of you
to make lonely nights
feel less lonely.

When I touch myself,
it’s your face I imagine.

You’re my pleasure.
My desire.

But somewhere
between lust
and fantasy,

I wished
I were the one
pouring my heart out to you.

I wished
you thought of me
with the same intensity
as the poems I read
on limerence.

How longing for you makes me greedy.

Yet even then,
these feelings
refuse to fade.

I want to see your smile
when you stop
to photograph
the little beautiful things
Mother Nature leaves behind.

I want to see your pretty eyes
looking up at me
when you go down on me.

I want to watch you
pause for a stray cat,
grinning
as it leans into your hand.

I want to fall asleep
beside you naked.
Our bodies warm beneath the sheets,
a movie forgotten
as we drift off together.

I want you
to want me
as much as I want you.

But more than anything,

I want to see you
simply as yourself.

Not the fantasy
I’ve created.

Not the photographs
I’ve memorized.
And maybe,
just once,

I want you
to look at me
with the same admiration
I’ve spent countless nights
giving to your face
through a screen.

I want.
But I can’t.

Even after giving you
pieces of myself
I had never shown anyone

my body,
my secrets,
my darkest desires,

I am still
a stranger.

Am I naive
to think
that you could be
the love of my life?

Probably.

But I can’t deny
what you’ve awakened in me.

The rawest parts
of being human.

The ache
of missing someone
I never truly had.

The way
your pictures
overwhelm me
until my emotions spill over,
until I hit the floor,
the wall,
throw my phone aside,
as if physical pain
might quiet
the storm you’ve stirred inside me.

I didn’t know
I could feel
this deeply.

This intensely.
This endlessly.

I am someone
who yearns
for years.

Someone who loves
long after
there is reason to.

In the end,
Suppressing these feelings
doesn’t make them disappear.

It only makes me feel
like I’m betraying
the truest part of myself.

The curse of the 3 months rule
It always starts the same.
Everything feels exciting, unknown,
almost magical.
Just talking to someone new
feels like a whiff of fresh air.
You’re blinded by the compliments,
the validation,
the frequent texting,
the way every notification
makes your heart race.
For a while,
it feels like nothing could ever go wrong.

Then,
the three-month mark arrives.
Somehow,
everything changes.
The conversations don’t feel the same.
The excitement fades.
You keep chasing the feeling
that once came so effortlessly.
But this time, it’s only you who is.

Their replies become slower.
Less texting.
Less enthusiasm.
Long pauses between conversations.
The validation slowly disappears,
and before you even realise it,
you begin questioning your own worth.

At night,
you lie awake wondering,
“Are you bored yet?”
Maybe they’re busy.
Maybe you’re overthinking.
Maybe… you’re simply no longer
someone they look forward to.

You tell yourself
not to seem desperate.
So you don’t double text.
You wait.
You browse over old texts
Overthinking their words
Finding signs of them slipping away
Hours pass.
You keep checking your phone
even though you already know
there isn’t a response .

Deep down, you always knew.
You were never going to be together.
They weren’t right for you.
Yet somehow,
that never diminished
The intense feelings harboured .

Because it was never
just about having them.
It was the way they made you feel.
Their attention.
Their kindness.
Their words.
Their enthusiasm.
whenever they spoke to you.
You crave every little thing
they used to give so freely.

Every hour they don’t reply,
your feelings somehow grow stronger.
You replay old conversations.
You stare at their photos.
You listen to songs
that suddenly feel like
they were written about them.
You fantasise what could’ve been

The hardest part is knowing
you don’t even have the right
to be upset.
You were never together.
There was never a label.
No heartbreak
that anyone else could see.
Just silent yearning for someone
who never truly belonged to you.

Then one day,
they stop reaching out.
You saw it coming.
Yet it still hurts all the same.
Because no matter
how tightly you held on,
you could never hold on
to someone
Who was slipping through
Your fingers

And that’s when you know.
The clock
has finally ticked its time
And the three-month curse
has claimed another victim’s heart.
Leaving behind nothing
But the walls of texts
As evidence that you were once wanted.