I lost my gender in white lies. That’s the hardest thing about who I am and what you are to me. I write with anger and gratefulness as you read my words nearby. I have been afraid you will address the affection I project onto us, that I might lose you. I will bind my tears to it, with gratefulness, open to thinking love is unknowable.

I need to be interpreted in our relationship. I remember that aspect of each letter, where the other person takes all of my heart. The times I was going through sacrifice were when I felt your most desperate moments. I could receive your presence through my own difficulties and become more thoughtful each time.

Your presence, your touch that I wanted. Everything you are. But my attraction plays outside of your perspective, predictable as non-attachment and antagonism.

What about you in this conversation? I leave so much unexplained and just try to figure out whether it can be said. I do it in action, but not giving anything through my body. I want to lead and feel your desire as if we are normal human beings.

I knew myself in you and I kept me.