I’ve been roving a long time, searching and sleepless, entrails and gown emitting weak light. Everything a puzzle or punishment, an opportunity to sink deeper, stumble farther, hoping to find some mud or muck to glom onto my pulse, deaden it. When I saw you, I wanted to be seen by you, and that was important, because it was the first time in a long time I wanted to exist. I don’t mean to be dramatic, this is the truth. I thought when I met love, it would be a certain way. Would light me up and look at me a specific way. But it wasn’t the way you looked at me, it was the way you looked away from me, into the world. And you don’t light my brain on fire, or contain the flames which always threaten to drown me. There is no fire… no low singe or steady burn. Rather, when I see you looking at your computer or studying an item of interest, when your hands are on my body and we lay in bed looking at each other, I achieve that beautiful blankness, that total rest, the moment of cease-fire in a Kusama infinity room of synapses firing and instead of searching, I find.