And I stay here. Always here, where you are. It doesn't matter if we're only sharing moments in passing—a nod, a glance, the exchange of a fleeting "hello." I dream of you, and it gets clearer even when I close my eyes. I see you, standing there in a haze of moonlight, your shadow stretching toward mine, as though the earth itself wants us to meet in the middle.
But then comes the question that tightens my chest. What am I to you?
Do you see me? Or am I just another face you'll forget as you walk on by? It makes me anxious. Every day, everywhere, my mind is a canvas, and it's painted with thoughts of you. Your voice, your laugh, the way your fingers run through your hair when you're lost in thought.