At 3:20, when the night breathed soft,
I woke, pages of inorganic laid before me,
But my mind was adrift, far from formulas and facts,
And soon, sleep claimed me in its gentle grasp.
In the quiet depths, where dreams are raw,
I saw you, clearer than daylight, yet distant.
My heart beat with the urgency of unsaid words,
Hands trembling, as if they’d never held such weight.
A confession—folded neatly, ink still drying.
I gave it to you, fragile and earnest.
You blushed, your eyes wide,
Shy like a moment suspended in time,
And I felt the flutter of emotions, so pure,
Like a flicker of warmth between cold winter winds.
You accepted—blushing, smiling—
And for a moment, the world tilted gently,
A surge of quiet joy rushing through my veins.
But then I woke, the dream slipping like sand,
Reality heavier in the early light.
I couldn’t return to sleep; your smile lingered,
Haunting me softly like a half-remembered song.
Later that day, under the sun’s indifferent gaze,
Physics passed like wind through my mind,
But in the break, I saw you again,
Leaning against the railing, lost in thought.
I walked by, pretending not to see,
Talking with friends, but feeling every beat of your presence.
They urged me, nudged me,
“Go on, give him the letter,” they said.
But I faltered—three times, the courage slipping.
And then, just before he left—
Between the wall and the self-study bench,
My hand found his, the letter trembling between us.
Your face, soft with surprise, cheeks reddening,
A shy smile tugging at your lips.
You took it—no words exchanged,
But the way your eyes met mine said enough.
Blushing, turning, you left,
And I stood there, the happiness spilling over,
Uncontainable, like lightning through my veins.
Physics made sense that day,
The world a little brighter,
And at 5:20, as class ended,
I saw you again, sitting on the stairs.
You should have been home,
But there you were, your smile still lingering.
Your answer didn’t matter, not really—
Yes or no, it was the act that freed me.
All I hoped was that you wouldn’t laugh,
That my heart, laid bare in that folded note,
Wouldn’t become a joke.
Whatever the answer, it would still be an answer—
And that, I realized, was enough.
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