It Was You, And It Was Me

 (To My First Love)

I saw you once,

and words were no longer needed...

My heart learned your name

without being taught.

You smiled —

and it felt as if

all the light meant for me

had settled softly on your face.

I was no one,

just a quiet boy

who made a habit

of watching you like a prayer.

In your braids,

I tied my dreams —

and each day,

left my gaze along your path.

No “I love you” ever spoken,

no hand ever held,

only silent wishes

to stand close to you without asking too much.

The college bells rang,

you turned and glanced back —

and my heart whispered,

“Stop right here… this is everything.”

I once tried

to trace your laughter with my pen,

but it was so delicate,

even words dared not touch it.

Every page began

with the first letter of your name,

as if you weren’t just a poem,

but my entire belief.

It was a tender age,

but the love it held

was as pure

as a sky before rain.

Before I lost you,

I never truly had you —

but in every dream,

in every quiet prayer, you lived.

I never asked anything of you,

only hoped —

that when you laughed,

you might glance my way, just once.

Even now,

when I open old notebooks,

those crooked little hearts,

those flowers drawn around your name

all begin to smile again.

Maybe that kind of love

never makes it into books,

but in my chest,

it still beats softly —

"It was you, and it was me…"