(spring)
I remember how you thought I was a woman and dismissed my flirting when I saw you in town. It used to confuse me; no man could resist my charms. I guess it wounded my pride. Then we ran into each other at that bath house and there was no way I could venture into the women's bath, no matter how convincing I looked in a kimono…
You told me that when you saw me that way, it was love at first sight.
I pitied you.
I told you I couldn't love you. You said you'd wait forever. You seemed so happy…I didn't want to contradict you, so I stopped telling you otherwise.
You're sitting on the porch, watching the fireflies. You think I'm asleep -making love always wears me out- but I'm watching your silhouette through the rice paper door. Some part of me loves to see you sitting there. Solitary. Beautiful. I love the way your glossy hair falls around your face, the way your clothing hangs on your slender frame. You're a beautiful man; I don't deserve some one like you.
I think you're one of the few truly good people I've ever met in my life.
I don't understand why you want me, but then, you don't know about my dark life…You only see the care-free man who wants to be a woman and likes pretty things. You always laugh when I show off new clothes and tell me I'm such a woman. You tell me I'm beautiful; I smile and accept the compliment, even though I know it should be I who's saying you're beautiful.
You slide into bed behind me, wrapping me in your arms and whispering those three little words.
I wonder if it bothers you that I'll be gone before you wake.