Dear T

I appreciate you; I want you to know that. 

I appreciate you for your eyesight: you don’t see only what things look like but what they represent; you see beauty in things, see them for what they really are not just what you project. 

You have this crazy ability to pin down the exact coincidental fragility of things that is just so. And you have this ability to see beauty in ugliness, or rather, to see ugliness — ugliness is just another type of beauty when your eyes aren’t all blurry, why doesn’t everyone know that? I have so much to learn from you.

I want you to hold my hand in the dark, shoulders touching. 

I want you to kiss me in the most intimate place you can kiss someone; kiss me on my palms or the insides of my wrists, where you let someone kiss you when you trust them.

 Let me hear your mellow heartbeat, let me take your glasses off your face when you fall asleep. 

I want you to smooth my hair away from my face when my hands are covered in hot sauce and I can’t do it. You won’t need me to explain anything.