It’s 10:32 PM on a Wednesday night. We are already in bed — dishes washed, teeth brushed, matching pink and blue sleep dresses clinging to our skin. I gave you the blue dres because you told me you’re the boy and I’m the girl. I let you because it makes you happy.
It’s 10:46 PM on a Wednesday night, and I am breathing you in. The old men at the gay bar next door roar, in Red, and I sink myself deeper into you
are to me what Yunluo must have been to Yingman. They are schoolgirls, holding in shy breaths veiled by dorm curtains. They are coquettish young girls, tiptoeing through rose bush gardens and vowing sweet blooms in the hush of midnight. They are lovers, exchanging soft kisses down the pavilion and taming hunger when their breasts touch at last. When I whisper that I love you in threes, I never speak too loud. I quietly indulge, inhale what little I can have of you. I am waiting, like them. And yet I deliver my words, in Red, like them.
We are lovers disguised in Romeo and Juliet. How I wish I could love you like Romeo and Juliet.
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