In the quiet depths of night,
Where shadows dance in moon's soft light,
There lies a tale of love unspoken,
A heart's desire, a vow unbroken.
Whispers lost in the gentle breeze,
Echoes of a love that silently flees,
In the depths of longing, it finds its start,
A silent yearning, a little bit of your heart.
One side beats with fervent flame,
While the other knows not of the same,
A secret kept, a silent art,
A solitary echo, a little bit of your heart.
Though words may never dare to fly,
In the depths of a solitary sigh,
Love lingers in the quietest part,
A whispered wish, a little bit of your heart.
So let it bloom in the hidden shade,
A love that in silence is arrayed,
For even in silence, it plays its part,
A timeless echo, a little bit of your heart.
Jisung is sitting at his desk in his dimly lit dorm room. The moonlight filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. The gentle illumination creates an almost ethereal atmosphere, making the room feel like a sanctuary of thoughts and dreams.
Jisung's desk is cluttered with books, papers, and his journal, each item bearing witness to countless hours of contemplation and creativity. The room is quiet, save for the faint rustling of the trees outside, their leaves whispering secrets carried by the night breeze. This serene symphony of nature serves as the perfect backdrop for Jisung's introspective mood.
Jisung, a boy of seventeen with tousled dark hair and thoughtful eyes, is deep in thought. His brow is furrowed slightly, not with frustration but with the intensity of his emotions. His pen glides smoothly over the paper, its tip dancing with the grace of a seasoned ballerina as he writes the final lines of his poem. Each word is chosen with care, each phrase a reflection of his innermost feelings.
His face is a picture of concentration and quiet longing, illuminated softly by the moonlight. The faint glow highlights the contours of his face, casting gentle shadows that accentuate his expression. The camera focuses on the words as he writes them, zooming in to reveal the elegant script that flows from his pen.
As he writes, his feelings pour out onto the paper, raw and unfiltered. The poem is a testament to his unspoken love for his best friend, Minho. The verses capture the essence of his yearning, the bittersweet nature of his affection, and the silent hope that one day, Minho might see him in a different light.
Jisung pauses, lifting his pen for a moment as he rereads the lines he has just written. A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he glances towards the window, where the moon hangs high in the sky, a silent witness to his solitary vigil. He wonders if Minho, in his own room across the campus, ever looks at the moon and thinks of him. The thought brings a fleeting smile to his face, quickly replaced by a look of melancholy.
The scene lingers on Jisung's reflection in the window, his face a mixture of hope and despair. He turns back to his journal, his hand steady as he finishes the poem with a flourish. He reads the final lines aloud, his voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing his deepest secret with the night itself.
