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They say,
That unrequitedness is the,
Worst,
Part of a crush.

I thought that too.

I believed that the ripping,
The tearing,
The bruising of the heart,
Was the worst.

But somehow,
Now,
I think the worst part is the confession,
Your confession,
My confession.

The silence,
The longing,
The sudden at ease.

One moment of bliss,
Of comfort,
Of amenity.

But then of course,
I'm on the verge of a heart attack,
Cause now all I can think,
Is that I love you,
More than you love me.

The worst part,
Is that even your requited affection,
Gives me anxiety.