I wish I could let you understand how much I want you to stay. I don’t think I can lose another piece of myself and survive.

Why should we control our emotions. They are what makes us who we are.

I didn’t tell you that I loved him, not straight.  I told you about his smile in the morning, flickering through the sheets like a promise. I told you about the way his fingers glided over my skin, without intent, while he discovered me. I told you about our friendship, the joy trickling to me through another person. So you took him like he was your own. And now he is. You could say, with complete honesty, that I didn’t tell you. But can you live with saying that? I’ve tried. It’s drowned me in my tears.