Chalk Dust and Unspoken Words

The blackboards loom, a silent witness to that day— I glimpsed her, and my chest tightened. Only god noticed how I held my breath. Chalk-scented classrooms, her pen tapping desk, My eyes fixed on textbooks, pretending indifference. Unknowingly, how aware I was of her every move. Lunch breaks, I'd watch her from across the room, Her laughter carried on the breeze, a melody— I wished I had the courage to knock between worlds. Valentine's day, I mustered up the nerve to confess, A clumsily folded note, my feelings scrawled inside. But as she neared, my throat closed, and I walked away. Prom afterparties: smoke and cosmetic scents mingling. I lingered by the school halls, watching her twirl in a dress that painted air with grace. "You going to talk to her?" my old friend nudged. I shrugged, mumbled something else about the music. Some feelings are too big for words, you know? Years pass. Manila grows, but shrinks too. I see her ghost in coffee shops, at jeepney stops. It's stupid, but I still rehearse what I'd say. My hair's more salt than pepper now. I walk our old routes, half-hoping, half-dreading— What if I turn a corner and there she is? Sometimes I wonder if she remembers me at all. Funny how a heart can hold on so tight to something that was never really there.