if you ever gave me the chance,

i would learn every little thing about you,

the tiny ones no one notices.

the way your voice lifts when you’re excited,

how you drum your fingers when you’re nervous.

i wouldn’t tell you i’m perfect.

i wouldn’t even try to be.

i wouldn’t try to change you,

only to understand you.

i’m not the loudest,

not the flashiest,

but i’d stay.

but maybe you wouldn’t let me.

not because you’re cruel,

but because you don’t really see me yet.

you’d mistake my silence for disinterest,

my softness for weakness,

my hesitation for distance.

you’d hold back,

thinking i’d never understand,

not knowing i already do.

the saddest part

is that you’ll never notice what you’re missing.

you’ll keep chasing fireworks,

forgetting how warmth feels.

you’ll be embraced in the wrong arms,

and call it love,

never realizing that all along

i was right here,

ready to give you forever.

because we could be worth it.

not the kind of love that burns out fast,

only lasting a day or two,

but late-night talks that stretch until morning,

the comfort of someone who actually listens,

the laughter that comes easy

and never feels forced.

i’d remind you of the little things,

that your laugh belongs to the world,

that even on your worst days

you’re still someone’s favorite miracle.

and if you ever let me,

i’d be the place you return to,

again and again,

without fear of being turned away.

and maybe i’ll never say it out loud,

maybe i’ll never hand you these words,

but if i loved you,

you would know,

not because i told you,

but because you’d feel it

every single day.