Work Text:
September 16th, 1803
Today I told Franklin about my predicament. I had feared he would leave me once I told him, but he took my hand and told me I was no less of a man as before. This really touched my soul, in a way I had not felt before. Though many accept me as a man, they presume I was born this way. Very few know, and those who do are merely tolerant of this knowledge. But Franklin… He has held the same respect for me as when he believed me to be a born man. The same love too. I could not ask for a better man, for he is all I want.
Franklin, possibly the only man who could love me like this, despite what I am. The moon must have smiled upon me when guiding him and I together. Every day I fall deeper for him, and it pours into every sentence I write. My poetry has never felt more alive. I have never felt more alive.
In my younger years, I was convinced I would spend my life alone. But when Franklin stumbled into my life, the whole idea of that was tossed out the window and all I wanted was him.
And now I have him. Franklin, my moon and my man.