My dearest, 

You did not reply to my notes for the past few days, so I thought I would write a poem for you. I hope you like it. 

When I die, I want your hands on my eyes. 
I want the light and wheat of your beloved hands to pass their freshness over me once more
I want to feel the softness that changed my destiny. 

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep.
I want your ears to hear the wind, I want you to sniff the sea's aroma that we loved together,
to continue to walk on the sand we walk on.

I want what I love to continue to live,
and you whom I love and sang above everything else.
to continue to flourish, full-flowered. 

So that you can reach everything my love directs you to.
So that my shadow can travel along in your hair.
So that everything can learn the reason to my song. 

I will wait for your reply,

N.

***

The raven-haired girl smiled as she read the note which was previously stuck in the locker. Grinning, she folded it and kept it securely in her bag. 

"Is it lover boy again, huh?" her best friend, said closing the locker beside her, giving her a rather smug look. 

"It's nothing, Arin," the girl said, failing to hide her smile.

"You're literally lying to my face, Yuna. I know it's him," Arin points out.

"What if it's her or they?" Yuna shoots back, dodging the question. 

"Okay," Arin sighs, "let me rephrase. I know it's them." She said and then added, "So you agree that it's a note from Lover-whose-gender-we-don't-know," she smirked.

"Yes, fine!" Yuna rolled her eyes, "It is from the N person again."

"You should write back to them, you know."

"And why would I do that?"

"So you'll get a life outside studies and romance books," Arin pointed out. 

"Books are fun, okay! And what if it's some random dude trying to get into my pants?"

Arin gave her a look. "From the way you were smiling some moments ago, I'm sure it wasn't. And seeing the fact that the notes are so consistent, I think they genuinely like you."

"I'm still not so sure about it."

"Trust me, babes. You'll thank me later. Write back."

"Fine. Whatever," Yuna sighed.

"I have cheerleading practise, I'll see you during lunch. Write back without fail!"

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author's note: 

The poem above in the note is written by Pablo Neruda. I don't know anything about poetry in general, much less in English. Happy reading, let me know your thoughts!