I am here even if I do not say anything,
I silently want your well-being,
they would deem it odd to be so crazy,
if I were to shout it aloud.
Someone once told me to reach for the stars,
I am-reaching for you,
I see someone better than maybe you see yourself,
and yet you are so different.
Faux pas and pleasantries aside,
who are we left with,
would we then be equals,
that to decide comes in time.
You seem to feel and write the same things I have,
writing the words only those close would know,
always about wanting and mourning love,
only if I had the chance.
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