His heart was a bird,
Trapped in her cage,
Her heart was those letters,
Written on his page.

He wanted to set it free,
She simply wanted him to see,
If he was a golden lock,
She desired to be his key.

He thought she loved her,
She believed he didn't,
If only he had read,
The last page she scribbled.

He loved to write,
She loved to read,
To grow his vast tree,
She was the first seed.

He wrote to impress,
She read to be a friend,
In all his stories,
She was the only trend.

He thought of some lines,
She deserved many books,
Her love for him,
Was beyond just the looks.

In his stories,
She found herself,
In his characters,
She rediscovered her own self.

He wrote,
She read,
But no one confessed,
The love they had.

It ended up a bird,
Trapped in a cage,
It ended up the letters,
Scribbled on a page.

***

"If you fail to express it, love might just remain a distant memory."