Our hearts were blank slates,
and on mine,
the first word it ever wrote was — you.
No glances were bold,
no words were spoken,
yet with every heartbeat,
I was calling your name.
Among crowds,
we were always alone —
tucked gently inside
each other’s quiet eyes.
Few words were exchanged,
but oh,
our silences…
they spoke whole stories.
Your smile —
it was the sunrise of my day.
And hearing you whisper my name
felt like an unfinished prayer finally said.
In college corridors,
we stole tiny moments,
hid our love
from the world’s envious eyes.
No promises,
no vows,
just a tender trust —
you were mine, and I was yours.
I’d write secret notes to you,
hide them in pages,
or send them through
the wind that knew our secrets.
I searched for your name
in raindrops,
felt your warmth
in rays of sun slipping through the leaves.
At the edge of every eyelash,
a dream of walking beside you —
never apart,
always quietly together.
Even when scolded at home,
just the sound of your name
would bloom a smile in me.
That love —
wasn’t loud, or wild,
but it was real,
as true as childhood sleep.
Behind labs,
beneath old trees,
your glimpse, your laugh,
your breath —
became my entire sky.
There was no desire,
no hunger —
just a soulful bond,
where only
you and I existed.
Even now,
when I walk past those old lanes,
the innocence returns,
spilling again across a blank page
where I still write —
only you.
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