I always wonder why I keep on thinking about you.
When i lay in bed, I imagine you but in the most innocent way.
The way you used to brush my hair back, how you used to look at me.
Thinking of the nights where we would talk for hours, and i would fall asleep to you.
Maybe it’s because every time I write, my stories are all about you.
They say when a writer falls in love with you, you never die.
You’re in every passage, every poem.
There are always traces of you.
If only you knew.
You’ve never read my stories and I want to keep it that way.
I am constantly hiding my emotions, so it does not conflict with us.
I am too in love, you are mysterious.
You are nameless, you are my secret.