You told me that what you dream of an endless love, a love that grows with each passing day, like the way that your dad loves your mom. How could you know that I was thinking the same thing at the exact same moment? How could you know that I always picture you when I dream of such things? I sit here longing to be the one to talk to you each and every night, to hear how your day went. I want to come home to you every day and let you know how much I miss you. I want you to know that it’s you who’s opened up feelings that I’ve long held shut. But how could I tell you such things when you only view me as a friend?
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