i. A birthday party in the dark. She feeds me popcorn, we kiss.

ii. I’m on a couch, texting her. I ask her if she loves me. She says yes. I say, “me too”. We talk about my boyfriend.

iii. A tire swing. We sway. We stare. We cannot talk. We stare. I want to kiss her. She leaves. I kiss her memory. I’m left with the tire swing.

iv. Another party, a different place. We are in an alley. Every cell of my being aches for her. I let myself fall into her eyes.

v. The same party. We are under a tree. I am kissing her. I can her feel her body on every pore of my skin. I can feel her lips, her tongue, her teeth. I can feel how right this is. My shoulders are freed of their weight.

vi. Weeks have passed. She tells me she doesn’t love me anymore. I know this is my fault, that I have hurt her too much. No matter what she says about gender, I know it’s because I’m not good enough.

vii. It has been ten months. I have hated her and hurt her. I have been quietly killed, I have tried to forget, I have buried myself in other problems and loved other girls, while she is always in my mind. I love her still.

viii. It has been months since we kissed. Welcoming her back into my arms, feeling her lips once more against mine, is as right as it was eleven months ago.

ix. I love her. She is all I need. I love her.