Guy Mankowski

I was living in exile. And yet the heat of your gaze meant that at that moment all the loneliness was erased by the thought that I could yet be saved from it all.

At first I feel your eyes possessively pore over my limbs as they extend and contract.

Through these letters I hope to illuminate these sunless corners of our lives. To illuminate exactly who you and I are now, as a result of what we have done to each other.

My letters to you, my darling Noah, will be maps, in which I hope I can be found.

But if I can at last do it with anyone – finally ventilate all the hidden compartments of myself – I believe it will be with you.

I want to embody this symbol for you for as long as I can, as I know you will draw from it during the dark and isolated moments that are still to come in your life.

You looked me up and down and I smiled, bemused by the way you so shamelessly considered the quality of my presence.

. I looked at you as though you had already taken me; you looked at me as if promising you would try.

It struck me how natural it felt to move into your space.

I’m running from silence, I thought. From being treated like a human punch bag. From being told I am disgusting, so many times that I sometimes even hear the voice say it at night. I even sense that she is in the room, saying it to me. But of course, I could not say that. So I shrugged.