Maybe there is a boy out there who wished
once upon a midnight moonlit sky
that the person he loved loved him back.

And maybe, inside someone else’s journal
there reads a story of two person
who are happily in love. With each other.

Maybe, somewhere in this town, there is a
person who is thinking about this boy
the way not an ordinary person would do.

And maybe, there are other people whose
hearts contains image and name of this
boy. And they’re in love.

Maybe, right now, I am writing this to no
person in particular. Or maybe I am writing it
for you. Or for me. Maybe.