for the one I’ll never know
I lay awake while shadows creep,
my thoughts too loud to let me sleep.
A carousel of “what if” spins,
then slows to “never,” and begins.
You flickered in—my FYP—
a miracle meant not for me.
A thousand hearts, a million eyes,
yet yours don’t see where my heart lies.
You’re there in pixels, bright and clear,
but still so far, you disappear.
You don’t know me. You never will.
And yet, you’re all I seem to feel.
I don’t know how you take your tea,
or what your laugh would do to me.
I don’t know if you curse or pray,
or what you’re scared to say today.
I want to know your messy side—
the things you flinch from, things you hide.
Your morning face, your quiet rage,
the notes you scribble off the page.
But I’m just one of countless more—
a passing thought, a quiet score.
A face that pressed its hands to glass,
and watched a world it couldn’t pass.
A stranger watching stars collide,
pretending fate was on his side.
And though I dream, I understand—
you were not meant to hold my hand.