My SpongeBob

I don’t say your name out loud anymore, I let it sit in my chest instead, like a secret I’m afraid will become too real if I speak it. You exist in the pauses of my day— between lessons, between breaths, between “I’m fine” and what I really feel. but somehow feel like they are. In the way my heart trips every time you’re near, like it forgets how to behave. You call yourself ordinary. You say your smile isn’t nice. But you don’t see it the way I do— how it feels like warmth finding me on a cold day without asking permission I don’t want promises. I don’t want confessions. I just want these small moments where my world quietly tilts because you exist in it. And maybe you’ll never know how deeply you’re written into my days— but if thoughts were love, you’d already be mine.