XIII

By waiting and waiting for the opportune moment.

For the right time in our lives.
For the confidence that you would feel the same.
For the interest in exploring a relationship.
For the seduction and the chase and the flirting.

For all the countless sweaty days spent running in the sun, laughing and joking and leaning on each other.


For the moments we caught each other’s eye in a clarity and a chemistry not-so-foreign to love.


For the way you read me like a book when it’s so hard for anyone else to look beyond their own two hands.

For the advice and the friendship you’ve given me over the years, and the summer nights of drunken glory.

“Hell, you could’ve had me!” Hell, I wish I’d known.

Maybe things would’ve turned out differently. Or maybe they would have been the same. Our friendship was never something I wanted to ruin, never something I wanted to test or taint with insecurity. I didn’t want you to see my vulnerability and shy away, or feel our relationship was then owed something.

I don’t think I can experience physicality with anyone else without the feeling of desire and intense passion and love.

We could have made waves, my dear. If we hadn’t hesitated, and you’d known how I’d felt. And if I knew that maybe you felt more than just physically for me.