In the garden of unspoken dreams,
I cultivate a hidden orchard,
where ripe emotions hang like forbidden fruit,
each boy a different blossom,
his faint smile a sweet breeze that stirs my heart.

I wander through this secret grove,
tangled in vines of hope and doubt,
where sunlight dances on the petals,
but shadows linger, whispering fears,
fears that love might not bloom in return.

What if I dared to pluck the fruit,
to taste the sweetness on my tongue?
Would the world turn, casting stones
at this fragile heart, exposed and bare,
or would they simply turn away,
unaware of the colors that swirl within me?

Each stolen glance feels like a brush of wings,
a momentary spark in the twilight,
but I retreat, a timid sparrow,
nesting in the thorns of hesitation,
afraid to sing my song,
afraid of the judgment that might echo back.

Yet, in the stillness, the yearning grows,
a tempest brewing beneath the surface,
and I wonder if I could find the courage,
to let these feelings unfurl like a wildflower,
boldly claiming space in the sunlight,
even if the winds of scorn may blow.

So here I stand, a keeper of dreams,
tending to this garden of unreturned affection,
each boy a star in my quiet night,
as I whisper my secrets to the moon,
waiting for the day I might dare to bloom.