𝕬 𝕾𝖆𝖉 𝕻𝖔𝖊𝖙 𝕴𝖓 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊

Poet Enthusiast? I Didn't Know

You stood in front of the class, calm but shy,
holding a poetry book—oh my.
Outside, I kept my cool, sat in my seat,
but inside I was kicking, my heart skipping beats.

You started reading, voice soft and low,
and I felt my admiration start to grow.
I think I was blushing, cheeks warm and red,
over a simple poem that I'll never forget.

Your hands were shaking—a sight so rare,
you're always so steady, without a care.
But there you were, nerves on display,
and it made you perfect in every way.

After class, I almost screamed,
my friends telling me to breathe.
The whole day, my heart did flips on repeat,
just knowing you read poems felt so sweet.

If only you knew I write them too,

we'd share our words, a line or two.

But for now, it's my quiet, secret thrill—

my heart racing, completely still.