Selfish Wish

There are moments when the silence of my room feels louder than ever, and I catch myself wishing you were here with me. I can’t help but think about the way how your eyes would undeniably light up when you laugh, or how your voice would sound when you speak, and how warm your touch would be against my skin. It makes me wonder if you ever feel the same, like if the thought of me ever crosses your mind—if you ever lie awake at night, wishing I were there with you. Do you also long for my presence, as I do yours? Because it feels so one-sided, so painfully unbalanced. Yet all I can do is wonder, and wish, and hope that somewhere, somehow, you might be thinking of me too.