She drifted to sleep,
with the glow of his message still warm on her phone,
words she had been waiting for,
resting like a lullaby beside her.
Outside the window,
the night bent down in silence,
slipping into her room not as shadows
but as the boy she loved,
woven from memory and distance,
his touch carrying the constellations of her longing.
He leaned close,
as if to read her dreams,
his breath soft against her cheek,
his fingers curling around hers
like promises she’d always wished to hear aloud.
The lamp stood watch,
with its painted moons and sleepy stars,
but dared not wake her.
Even the light from the screen
seemed to bow to the quiet spell.
Somewhere between reality and dream,
between messages sent and hearts unsaid,
she was held not by absence,
but by him
the one she had been missing,
who came to love her silently in the hush of night...

with the glow of his message still warm on her phone,
words she had been waiting for,
resting like a lullaby beside her.
Outside the window,
the night bent down in silence,
slipping into her room not as shadows
but as the boy she loved,
woven from memory and distance,
his touch carrying the constellations of her longing.
He leaned close,
as if to read her dreams,
his breath soft against her cheek,
his fingers curling around hers
like promises she’d always wished to hear aloud.
The lamp stood watch,
with its painted moons and sleepy stars,
but dared not wake her.
Even the light from the screen
seemed to bow to the quiet spell.
Somewhere between reality and dream,
between messages sent and hearts unsaid,
she was held not by absence,
but by him
the one she had been missing,
who came to love her silently in the hush of night...
