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.