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Jul 2020
and before the sun hit my windows,
or before the warmth of its light kiss my cheeks,
i dreamt of you.

it started with a random event, venue and cast,
-people are at our newly renovated house, celebrating;
family, relatives and close relations, and then you came.

you entered the house with such elegance and demeanor which
urged my unconscious self tremble in fluster and unknowingly smile,
how could a person be so beautiful?

and so you sat down on the seat beside me, facing my family;
we moved past the introductions as i frantically searched for your excuse for visiting me -how are you here?
do you have an ongoing project nearby, perhaps?

i kept asking questions, to make up an excuse for your visitation,
but you kept answering 'No," and when i gave up
you completed your answer, "No, I don't know." You smiled.

You smiled as if I know what you meant.
You smiled as if that'll erase the glares of the people around.
You smiled as if we understood each other, so well.

You smiled, and for the first time i saw your vulnerability;
you were shy, flustered and utterly adorable -you didn't even try;
you smiled as if you're helplessly falling in love.

and then i smiled,
as if to answer your proposal,
as if i knew what you meant, and that i say 'yes.'

but as all dreams work,
i woke up.
here's the direct anecdote from my notes:
I dreamt about you. You came to our house, i asked you why -if maybe you have any project nearby. You said no, you said you did not know. And you smiled, you smiled as if i know what you meant, and i did. Out of frantic panic that my family might know, i accidentally pushed the light bulbs off the table. And my mom said it's okay. It's okay as long as i also like you. And then i woke up.
That night, i saw you. In your most vulnerable state. Past your eloquence and your sturdy conviction whenever you're asked something about your profession. You were shy, flustered, and fidgeting your hair. You were so soft, i could almost hug and smother you with soft kisses.
context: he's a licensed professional of the degree i am currently taking; and we met one time during a convention.
Written by
mortifying dread to exist  22/corner of a coffee shop
(22/corner of a coffee shop)   
157
   Imran Islam
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