We long for what we wish to be,
Our crushes a heady potion,
A periapt to ward against our fear
That we are not enough, that we are
In need of rescuing — we rub the lamp
and the prince comes and kisses us.
The prince will never come,
And if he did, he would bear discord
On a silken pillow, and the ugly fairies
Would chant, “You get what you wish for.”
The illusion would break,
And you would feel you never were enough.
We need our crushes, our illusions
So we will be enough in our own worlds,
So we will be enough.
Words Like Me 