He’s a sunbeam slicing through a crowded room,
golden and warm, but never meant for me.
His smile—a flicker of fireflies in twilight—
dances just beyond my outstretched fingers.
I am the quiet shadow in the corner,
watching the world spin in colors too bright,
my heart a fragile glass orb,
cradled in trembling hands,
ready to shatter at the slightest touch.
He moves like a melody, effortless and free,
a wild song that echoes in empty streets,
while I am the silent pause between notes,
haunted by the weight of unsaid words.
Around him, laughter blooms like spring flowers,
a garden where I am just a ing breeze—
felt but never held,
seen but never known.
I trace the outline of his carefree steps,
each one a ripple in the still pond of my thoughts,
and I wonder if he feels the tremor,
or if I am just a ghost in his daylight.
Time is a film reel, spinning too fast,
a month of scenes I can’t rewind—
and still, I press play,
hoping for a moment frozen in light,
where maybe, just maybe,
he looks my way.
But for now, I am the girl with a heart on the edge,
falling again,
into the same old story,
written in shadows and whispered dreams.
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P.C: Pinterest
Writing: Mine
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