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anonymous Sep 3
A year ago I asked my therapist if she had any advice on how to live Catholic and Queer
today the revelation struck that my macabre upbringing has formed me for adoration
I learned in church how to anoint myself,
how to love in purity

and so now I love Her reverently, She becomes a pendant upon my forehead
I need no pinned scroll to declare my love, neighbors simply look into my eyes and read my true affections
for She is always on my mind

and though I have no personal angel to purify my mouth with burning coal,
my lips still burn for Her, yearn for Her
solely speaking in sweet Benedictions for Her

and like the stiff-necked Hebrews, my soul and spirit are split open in Her Presence
my very marrow fills with devotion and I fold
wholly Hers

and so I love and exalt Her the only way I know how
with consecrated mind, lips, and heart
anonymous Jun 18
it was like a hundred ninety-nine degrees
lightheaded and pink cheeked in the Kentuckiana heat
both of us dazed out in a Lisa Frank fantasy
blistered from our faux-leather high heels and flustered from the way she'd glance at me

well somebody wish me luck or send thoughts and prayers my way
cause this girl's got a way about her
shamelessly sharing dreams of running away (together)
escaping the life of midwestern royal freaks
and settling into normalcy

somewhere in the upper peninsula,
two modern, headstrong girls secretly sharing an apartment
maybe even a kitten
maybe even love
anonymous Mar 17
Dear Organism,

Oh, sweet living thing! From the moment, I laid eyes on you, I knew your cup runneth over. I knew you had health, love, ambition and vigor to spare. Intoxicated by your vitality, I began speaking my sweet nothings in your ear. Whispering gentle lies of love and adoration. You must know now that you were a fool.  Stupid, sullen girl, too eager to be loved to catch me dipping vial after vial in your cup; stealing the marrow out of your bones. And you know, you were the one who invited me in. From the first meaningless kiss, I knew I had you fully in my grasp and you would be mine to do with as I pleased. Testing the waters, I 'accidentally' burrowed under your clothes, spreading my incurable sicknesses. How easy you made it for me! Pitiful in the name of mercy and forgiveness, you let me have my way with you. Of course, you must know I never planned on staying. Those years spent drunk off your flesh and blood were simply a gratuity, a sweet little gift to myself. It took you ages to finally figure out I had poisoned you. Whenever I think of you crying and shaking your fists I still can't help but to laugh. You acted as though you weren't the one who gave everything to me, as though you didn't allow yourself to be marred. As if you weren't asking for it, flaunting your beating heart unguarded that fateful day we met! Idiot girl. I was told you plead that some Higher Power would be merciful instead of allowing you to continue living with your sickness. Pathetic. If I ever need you again, you know where to find me!

Yours,
Parasite
anonymous Feb 18
the gravity of what he did weighed on me for so long

(causing my ribs to crack so I could never draw in a full breath, and my legs to give out from holding in the tension of the truth)

so long, that I'd forgotten what it felt like before he touched my skin

I'm remembering now, and it hurts as it cracks me open and tears down my walls
this facade that everything is 'just fine, thanks!' has worn me down and held me together
I performed the act for so long, I forced it to become my reality
the whispered guilt crept into my bones and settled there like a cancer, spreading in a paralyzing metastasis
with each extra chance given I nailed myself to my little proverbial cross
knowing that I couldn't be both the victim and a martyr, so I chose my own Sainthood

and now he's gone

the dam collapses and now it's drowning me and I am drowning!
and there is no way for me to swim, he's killing me even now
and yet if he is the death of me I'll rise again in a spiteful show of metanoia

I'll be back transcended, back wearing armour
back flaunting my stigmata and with the unguarded meat of my heart, I'll tear apart every veil he draped over my scars
I'll bring about Armageddon just to see that traitor cower
anonymous Feb 18
she blinks up gazing at the moon off in space

walking backwards on the sidewalk as to not lose sight of her for a single second, as though she cannot bear to peel her eyes away or even to blink

she holds the entire cosmos in those eyes, shining like constellations in the night

she loves her so wholly, celestially, without regard for pragmatics or proselytizing

and she reminds me that she loves her without even meaning to, the words slip out without her giving the command
she is helpless in her all-consuming adoration

and I know the moon is just as helpless
up in the sky she's looking back down on this girl with starlight in her eyes and her frozen heart is leaping with the goodness she carries for this heavenly woman

I understand the moon in that way

I too carry goodness for this angel on the sidewalk who holds heaven in her eyes, because what else is there to do,

but to share helpless love with the moon
anonymous Jan 31
I gaily stomped my Blundstones through the snow after lecture, headed swiftly back to my dorm.
All bundled up in my dad's green crewneck and my new railroad-stripe overalls and the first beanie I'd ever crocheted
Iced lavender latte in one hand, key card in the other, and my earbuds chanting Chappell.
I held the door for the girl behind me a little ways
and she blushed
I walked away smiling to myself at this little femininomenon,
drank the rest of my coffee down, and curled up in my bed to write a love letter I knew I'd never send
musing over the phrase "chivalry is dead"
feeling pity for whosever grandmother first spoke those words
she must have never met a lesbian.
anonymous Jan 13
of all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you

our mittens knitted close together,
my hand swiftly (bashfully) offered before you slip and tumble
wholly, giggly and clinging to one another

forever on the brink of pulling the other down,
then crashing as the rest of the world fell away

without for a second letting go of your cool and knitted hand
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