I want to be loved—not the unrequited kind,
But the kind where looks don’t matter at all.
The kind where he sees my heart, my soul, my mind,
Where our thoughts may differ, but we still stand tall.

His name echoes through the hall...

I watch the ink glide softly across the page,
Writing of a love I’ve yet to know, yet to hold.
Each word is hope, each line a quiet ache,
I dream of stargazing with him in the cold.

His name echoes through the hall...

Book tropes fill my thoughts—friends to lovers slow-burn,
He drapes his jacket over my shoulders in the chill.
He pulls me up whenever I stumble or turn,
And stays, even when time stands still.

His name echoes through the hall...

I want him beside me—day by day,
Through every season, every storm, every climb.
To strip away the bark, in a gentle, loving way—
And hold the tender heart of wood that’s mine.

His name echoes through the hall...

My soul, my love, my hope, my dreams—I want them all to be his.
Let him love me like moths drawn to a flame,
Like Benny loved Selena, with a forever kind of wish,
Let him call me his from rooftops, unashamed.

I long to be his, to live in his world—
But all he’ll ever be is the echo of a dream…