I just always wanted you to ask about me. The more I waited it came to me how pointless it'd be to say. So I stopped waiting and praised you on your talent, it seemed the only outlet I found searching to charge my ego thinking I were useful. My praise in your dream became your dream inspiring me. You never noticed. I shed tears hearing your hopes transcend words parked beneath trees in your apartment lot. I hid them easily. You were so devoted to listening to yourself.  I wasn't much to hold your gaze unless I was tempting or cheering. The amazement in your eyes having had created made me lust after my dream deeper. I was truly thankful for it. But you never seemed to notice how moved you made me. My silence wasn't boredom, it was gratitude, for if ever in our moments I fell silent it was because I felt something vivid that seemed to always surprise me. I wanted to be more for you. Stretch my limbs and soul for you. The way when I closed my eyes it felt you had. The way it felt your lips pressed to my forehead, the small breath you'd let out as you began to smile down at me half asleep. The most living thing I've ever felt against my skin because it was real without me needing to see. Thank you for inspiring me, for forcing me to grow even a little, and for feeling like you were there for me even when I know you weren't.