Most love poems tell us how wonderful the beloved is. This one does something rarer: its speaker slowly works out that the person she is dreaming about is barely there. The poem begins with a small, practical moment, "Having to draw someone", and ends with a confession wrapped inside a promise to keep quiet. In between, we watch a daydream get caught in the act.
The first three stanzas build the fantasy in a gentle, almost drifting way. Drawing "you" turns into "representing your beauty," and then the speaker is no longer picturing the other person at all but herself. She dreams of being adored for her "imperfections," of being treated "like a princess," of being watched as she runs. That last image is oddly specific and quite touching. Running is something done to be seen, and the speaker imagines an audience of one. Even the line "Wanting you to come to me" is passive, a wish to be chosen rather than a plan to act. The dream is less about the other person than about being looked at kindly.
Structurally, the poem is seven unrhymed quatrains, with no regular meter and short lines that sound like speech. What holds it together is repetition. "Dreaming of" runs through the second stanza, "Imagining" through the third, and "Suddenly" opens two lines in the fourth. Each repeated word pushes the speaker further along. The dreaming is at first something she does, then something she imagines, and then something that simply happens to her: "Suddenly the songs were for you." The phrase "even when I didn't want to" shows that this crush has slipped past her control.
The most revealing repetition is "I know." She says "I know damn well I'm not in love," then "I know it's just a crush," then "I know someday / I will need to admit this." Knowledge is the poem's defence against dreaming, and the speaker keeps reaching for it. The more often she says it, the more it sounds like someone reassuring herself. The blunt "damn well" has the same effect, because it is the voice of a person arguing with her own heart. She also shrinks the feeling with words like "just," "stupid," and "little," and tries to file it under "every other crush." The closing explanation, "Only I hadn't had one in too long," is half excuse and half loneliness.
The turning point is the sixth stanza, which begins with "And I realize." Here the poem's grammar does its sharpest work. The crush is on "what I know of you," then on "the idea I have of you," then on "the idea of love." Each line moves one step further from a real person and closer to an abstraction. The repeated "on" makes the list feel like a slow retreat. By the end, the "you" has almost dissolved, and what remains is the speaker's longing. It is an unusually honest and self-aware insight for a poem about a crush.
The final stanza adds a light irony. The speaker says she will "hide it" and "wait til I forget," yet the poem itself is the opposite of hiding. She is telling everything to the reader, which suggests that a secret this size needs somewhere to go. The plain, mostly one-syllable last line, "And wait til I forget," ends the poem quietly, without a flourish. The title, with its "pt.2" and the pairing "WISH / DREAMS," suggests this text belongs to a larger sequence. Even read alone, though, it works as a complete small drama: wishing, noticing, denying, understanding.
The poem matters because it refuses to dress up an ordinary feeling. It does not claim a grand passion, and it does not pretend the feeling is nothing. Instead it shows the smaller, more common experience of falling for a picture in your own head, and it does so with humour and tenderness toward the person who is doing it. Many readers, especially younger ones, will recognise that mixture of embarrassment and hope, and the poem's quiet message is that recognising it is not a failure. It is part of understanding what you actually want.