There are those moments of brief rarity when my eyes will meet yours, although you may not being glancing my way, I can still see those deep amber orbs glistening in the light. Your long lashes frames them perfectly, while your attention is elsewhere on the street before you. I’ll attempt to inhale air, but my lungs are stunt and no longer active. In that moment I think of nothing else, not gender or identity, only the person that has glamoured me with those eyes. I think of nothing else, but the person sitting next to me, not even our past can draw my attention away from you. I see nothing but your soul and the beauty that it holds, because I don’t only see the physical. This all happens within a second or two. On even rarer occasions, without you knowing, you’ll accidentally stare back. A tiny smile will crack through your serious face, illuminating and softening your features, and I’ll reply with a smile back. Those are the small moments that surprises me. I wouldn’t dare call it love, but I wouldn’t dare say it isn’t either.