Your favourite words are huzzah and indubitably
And I have a last name and a middle name
The smell of rain makes you feel alive and in tune with your humanness
And I am someone in a house with no roof
The pages of my dictionary are skimmed through
And I am translating yours in speech that has been lost to time
You are the train beating against the chest of night
And I am thought of as the budding apple tree
I want you to touch my branches with nothing but goodness and the love of feeling one's heart sing
Regale me in all that is soft
Touch me like I am the finest silk you've ever felt
The grass between your toes
A monarch's wing
My skin, the coat of a lamb
I want to be the reason you sin against the gods and all things holy
Because I am the only one worthy of your devotion
Was it always destined to be this way?
Some ancient trepidation slithering off the old witches tongue
Nose bleeding on the stark white page
Books dog earred and sun stained
You are the reason artists have the urge to create
Genesis Genesis Genesis
I want to know you in the space between my conscience and my eyelids
I wish I could write this all more softly, and more pretty. But I'm not the one for poetry right now. I want to get messy, get dirty, gritty even. I'm just going to throw out all my thoughts. I'm not going to overanalyze them or go 'ahh, are you sure you're feeling that? Lets over explain so you don't look bad for feeling that' but I just want to throw it all up. I'm going to do it. Fuck it. Sometimes I want to give up on sex. Just discard of the whole idea entirely. I've been having such a difficult relationship with it, and part of me wants to just run away from it because it'll be easier, but I also know it'll never get better if I do. And I want it to get better. I really do. I'm under the belief that everyone can have the sex life of their dreams. I guess I'm just being too impatient with that destination. There's cum on my dress. Sex feels one sided. I like sex but I feel like shit after it. I like it in the moment, and then I feel hollow afterwards. I feel like my pleasure isn't prioritized at all. I feel like a sex machine. Am I held? Am I cared for? Am I whispered sweet nothings? There's cum on my dress and I have to clean it up. I want fingers in my hair and kisses on my brow. I want soft words in my neck and tender stares. I want I want I want. Why do I feel relief when it's over? Why does it feel like we aren't having sex together? Why does it feel like I'm the only one doing sex? I'm giving it. Just, giving. I want to know that those that are granted access to my body, are only touching me with good intentions. I want to be cherished. I want to be held so fucking bad can I please be held will you hold me please. I think that sex will fulfill that need to be held. I can't give head. The one thing that I'm meant to do as a woman, I can't fulfill. I tie my worth to it. I tie my worth to sex. I tie my worth to how much love I can give another human being. If I'm that human being, it doesn't count. I'm outside on my porch on the warmest day we've had this year so far, and I'm wanting more for my pleasure. I do get pleasure from sex. But somethings missing. I want emotional sex. I want to get weird, I want to be playful, I want to be safe. I want to feel sexy without feeling vile. I want to be wanted. I want to be yearned for. I want my being to be craved for. Not what I can do for someone. Not my abilities. Not how much I can give for you. I want to be wanted for me. Because my soul deserves to be embraced regardless of what I can do for others. I want my entire person to be celebrated simply for existing. I want someone to look at me like I'm pure fucking art. Why won't you make me your magnum opus? I've said that line before, in another poem, but it still rings true. I want you to look at me, and not see someone who can give you things. Because I deserve that. I deserve to be held because I am alive, and human. Please. My legs are cold and I am human. Will you kiss my legs? Will you kiss the parts that shouldn't be kissed? I want to kiss the backs of your knees, and the grooves between your toes. I want to run my hands along your ears and press my lips on your back dimples. I see you as art. You are infinite. I want to know you in this life, and the ones after. Whether I have a vessel or not, I want to exist in the same plane as you. The same space, and the same breath. I want you when we are no longer of this earths energy. I want you wherever the atmosphere takes us. Anywhere. I think about these things when we fuck. When I clean you up. When I am left with cum on my fucking dress. I know we can only meet people where they've met themselves, but I wish you'd just hurry the fuck up. Love me like the snake loves it's mother. Like the hunt loves it's flesh. Like the water loves the stars. Love me like you love what I can do for you.
05/06/22
experimental, works better as a spoken piece. written while high.
