If you were here (or I were there), I would tell you I love you. This profound wave of the unconditional that I can neither explain nor support. I love the fact of your existence and that love becomes a joyful tracing of movement. The way you lean a skateboard back and forth down the sidewalk. I love your mismatched clothes and the jerking movements of your imperfect limbs. I love your tired smile and your tired jokes and your tired isolation. I love you because you do not know I love you. And if I told you, instead of believing that perhaps I leave a trail of barely perceptible affection like the scent of twilight, you wouldn’t accept it. Or you would and I would forget how to offer. The way words forget what it means to love. The unknown with a whole heart.