Some part of me has always known about you–I imagine it was the same part that knew my truth before I did. Being with men, pursuing that lifestyle always felt like going through the motions. Girls, though, girls held my attention–I thought they were beautiful for beauty’s sake. Not beautiful so that I could soak up that beauty like a month-old sponge. I wanted popular, pretty men so that I could feel pretty and popular–their acceptance of me meant that I could accept me. Women were always just beautiful: simple, easy. Requiring very little on my part, except their acknowledgment. But women back then were a goal to attain–unbeknownst to me that they could be romantic attachments.

I don’t remember the first time I saw you–I remember the jokes about your blurred boundaries. Your talent quieted that talk soon enough though. Boy, could you sing–and with such heart, such passion. Every word seems to carry your entire heart through your slim, pink lips. A testament to endurance, certainly. A testament to the generosity of your heart. Your shining eyes are proof of your enjoyment. You want to be there as much as we want you to be there.

Your beauty exists without boundary–a true vessel of love, life wrapped in a men’s tailored suit. An Elvis hairstyle rests over your sad eyes: blue never ending. Touch me with the softness of your skin. Welcome me in. I can’t promise you won’t regret it, but I can make it worth your while.

Thank you for having the strength to be honest with your heart. Sharing, on that level, with millions of people is something most would avoid, shy away from. You embraced this with every fiber and put them all on display. My heart, though only just truly acquainted with you, would have never been the same. Though it seems insignificant and small: thank you.



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