Dear Frida,

I once had a lover who looked at me like maybe I was magic.

And I hung everything on that maybe,

When they weren’t looking at me at all.

Maybe you were talking about a mirror, Frida.

Because I no longer want a lover who looks at me that way.

And I no longer want a maybe, but a yes.

I cannot even bear being looked at anymore

From now, I want only to be seen.