It first, it was a spark,
a fleeting glance,
a shy smile caught between the noise of ordinary days.
My heart skipped,
then stumbled,
like it had just learned how to walk again.
You became the echo in my laughter,
the reasons colors bloomed brighter,
than they ever dared before.
Every word you spoke,
turned into a keepsake,
I tucked ietly away,
like fragile glass in my pocket.
What began as a crush, soft, uncertain,
a whisper against the edge of thought,
grew roots in silence,
deeper than I ev meant it to.
And somewhere between
your smile and my trembling hands,
I fell,
not qucikly,
but gently,
Like dusk surrendering to night.
Yet here I remain,
a s`ecret gardener,
of this hidden bloom,
tending to a love I dare not name aloud.
For some stories,
are meant to be lived in silence,
and some hearts,
learn to burn quietly between the lines.