She wasn’t walking
she was drifting,
like a secret written in the wind.
Her laughter was moonlight spilling into a quiet room,
her eyes, two galaxies I could never stop falling into.
She didn’t belong to earth,
she was the pause between dreams and waking.

I loved you
back in 8th grade

I sent a secret note for you
and you took it
and my feelings grew

but then it got revealed
my number, my name
everything

all your friends contacted me
wanting to know who I was

you said it was an accident
that they stole it and didn't give it back
but you still wanted to know me

I was relieved and hurt
I didn't control my feelings
and I told you it was the wrong number and person

and till this day I regret it
I wished I told you the truth
that it was me

Now I see you everywhere
and I cant help but to still love you  

I still love you

i sat in the forest --
picking up leaves
and ripping them
in different ways,
different shapes
because everyone is different.

and they all break differently.

i picked a once green leaf
that was staring to brown
on the edges.

i ripped it
and it didn't break
slowly
like the others.

it just fell apart
in my hands.

but it made me look up at the
sunbeams
slipping between
the tall forest trees.

realising,
not everyone breaks slowly.

some people crumble and fall apart
all at once.

and that's okay.

if the reader
falls in love with the character of a book,
their love can be eternal.

he can over and over re-read
each part of his beloved.
he can just stop for a while
and gently touch the mirage.
he can even ****** a piece
and carry it for a lifetime.

but what happens
if the character
falls in love with the reader?