From Her, With Love

I love you the way women have always loved women— quietly at first, then all at once, then with a fury that rewrites the rules. You are beautiful in the way that has nothing to do with beauty— the way your voice drops when you're serious, the way your hands move when you're excited, the way you take up space like you finally decided you're allowed to. They will ask: Who's the man? And we will laugh because the question answers itself— neither, both, who cares, pass the salt. I didn't choose you the way they say people choose. I recognized you— the way you recognize a song you've heard before but can't name, a place you've been before but can't find on any map. This love is not a lesser version of something. This love is the whole thing— unabridged, unapologetic, wearing its own ring on its own finger and owing no explanation to anyone.