All this time I’ve taken pride in the belief,
That I’m a good listener.
That I’m sensitive and empathetic.
That I’m perceptive and supportive.
But when I hear the tears in your voice,
All those beliefs falter.

I never knew why you were here.
Smiling and spirited.
Always moving forward.
In many ways, you inspire me.
In other ways, I’m jealous.
But I never really knew.

You hid it well,
Even now I don’t know,
How deep the cut goes,
and honestly,

Maybe I’m not worthy of knowing.

But permit me the selfishness,
Of listening anyway.
I don’t want to lose my inspiration.