it’s strange i often think about you — what you’re doing, whether you’re okay, if you need anything, if there’s some way i could help. my whole being tunes itself to you whenever you’re near. when you say something funny, you often glance straight at me, and i see how pleased you are when i laugh with you. every time my spirit sinks, you’re the one who knows how to lift me so quickly, so effortlessly. i long for you — i do. for your presence, your touch, for the closeness we slip into without trying — and yet when your eyes meet mine, my heart stays quiet — and i feel hollow. even when you praise me, i don’t believe your words, i feel only familiar sadness. maybe this isn’t love at all, maybe it’s just the ache of wanting to be wanted. maybe i’m trying too hard to matter to you. my soul is tired of chasing faint echoes of your affection. but i don’t know how to stop.
