I remember when I was 18, I found out you were not straight. I wanted to scream. I was enraged, but I didn’t know who or what to blame. Then, I saw you last Sunday. I’m turning 20 next month. I hate to admit it, but all my fury faded the moment my eyes met yours. The rage collapsed, and it turned into peace. Oh, I’m glad you’re around. I feel like I want to cry. Though, it’s not the same anymore. You used to look at me with such affection and love but now it has nothing. I was hurt. How I wish we could go back to how we were before—when I was yours and you were mine. Looking at each other from across the room, not thinking about other people, as if we are ready to risk it all for what we have. I hate to admit that after all these years and after knowing what you are now—my feelings never changed. I still love you, in the most unreasonable yet meaningful way. I love you, most ardently.
ῥαββί, always.
—Red
Writings of Red 