Dried petals

#25

I remember
that you were
the kind of boy
whose name
would caress
the lips of my
grandma
more than
once, whenever
I asked
her to tell me a
bedtime story.
you were the
kind of boy,
who no hand
could ever
reach, no matter
how much its
fingers are
stretched.
you were so
special, so
precious, like
the first blooming
flower of a late
spring, or a
beautiful sunrise
that comes
with the promise
of a new
beginning.
I fully knew that
you could never
belong to me,
but the urge to
have you
was so strong,
for you existed
in the lines of
every poem I
read, your voice
swayed in
harmony with
the words that
rolled off my
tongue, and your
scent was tucked
between
the pages of my
favourite book.
you were
everywhere,
and your shadow
followed my
each step.
in my eyes it
was fate, so
every night I
tried to write our
own story on
the stars,
unaware that
you have already
made history
with her.