asleep

Her birthday is tomorrow.

She will turn 29 on the 29th, with a solar eclipse and a new moon in the sky.

Out of those 29 years, I've known her for 14.

Half of her life.

This is an oil pastel drawing of me sleeping. She drew it from memory one morning, while waiting to volunteer for a friend's dentist exam.

I don't know what she sees in a guy like me, but it is silly to question it. This wonderful drawing gives me a clue.

It looks like me. It feels like me. It is me.

It is what she sees in me, and I like what she sees.

I have never loved another so deeply, so madly, so completely.

I saw her today, for a short while. We kissed as the gentle rain cascaded down upon her large black umbrella. I looked into her eyes and recognized the flicker, the glowing light that shines from behind her hazel-hued pupils...

She is my lover. She is my best friend. She is a female version of me. I am a male version of her. We are each other. We are together.

We will never be apart, ever again.