Secretly loving someone is like a sour fruit quietly growing in your heart, still unripe and too precious to show anyone. Watching his back from afar, you gently lay all the tenderness of your youth at his feet. Every joy and anxious flutter stirs only in your eyes, never daring to disturb him. Like the wind meeting a cloud, like the moon sinking into dusk, I passed through your youth, daring only to fall for you from afar, never coming a step closer. Lingering tenderness wraps around the bittersweet ache, quiet and sincere.
