The way I expressed it didn’t fully
Make sense to my dearest
Who only likes men.
I’ve never prescribed to the scrutiny
Eyes of socks eyeing us as they do ****.
I used to see red as a fad that
had past and a warning that I’m
Nor will be, no matter my try.
But I’m realizing now,
Want is deeper than thou who have
wanted me only in theory.
Fruity or trans, and the girlfriend
I have, each is queer and there’s something more in it:
Queers see women the same way
they view art pieces;
So I’ve always been Venus and Ophelia,
The Laddy of Shallot— not some
who’ll answer your questions of
public hair and fair children.
Where a woman I knew
sees a woman as through
some mans eyes focused on her *******—
I cut a fringe for the change,
And remain soft in shape
For these are a lover’s desires:
Wear your identity on your sleeve,
In the curve of your arm, on the scent of your hair and upon the pendant at your neck.
Like the romantics do in literature;
After de-centering men,
You can finally be free.
Inspired by the monologue found at https://youtu.be/0o4heKCLeTs
Nelumbo nucifera, or lotus flower— liberation from attachment.
must dedicate myself to you
Somehow, by staying mine,
Sustaining that which you have loved,
instead of unbalancing us.
I'd never want your lips gone,
or the shine that's in your eyes,
so I'll upkeep my quiet side,
the shimmer in my hair,
to give you me as I still am--
your person while I'm mine.
The false spiraea represents dedication and patience for a loved one.
I am about to
get to know you in summer.
We fell in love in October,
and nourished our bond under blankets
during a cloudy winter.
But I'm about to get to know you
We'll change again, and again,
I hope we never tire like the seasons.
I hope we change
until we go home to the father.
You were a poem I always wrote
You were aflame and I felt bad
She was a future yet unknown
“Us” was in view but not to have.
I didn’t know Her, nor myself
but I knew you, and then I was irrelevant.
It felt like a breakup
I don’t know you and I
don’t know what we had.
title from Arlo Parks’ “Eugene”
You feel like sunshine at twilight
and I can’t wait to spend our twilight—
but I’m too small to burn,
Too young to think about when the sun sets,
Just tall enough to love you,
just bright enough to know what that means.
It was all yellow,
but let’s not be precise
for I’ve just learned to speak my mind—
But you see who I am,
the past couldn’t hold a candle to you in my present,
And your face glows with an energy I
want to soak in forever.
Forever is not for us, now,
though our parents chose forever at nineteen and have felt thirty moons go by.
Is this the harsh blush of youth,
or is this real light we warm ourselves by?
You feel it,
I know it,
But you shan’t tell anyone else of how I
The lure of her bed is
much different than mine.
I never knew another’s bed in which I’d spend time.
One a cradle, a soothing mess of pillows in the dark.
One thirteen miles away and a hundred worlds apart.
I collapse into mine when I feel my life dim.
Hers I snuggle into for the light and anticipation.
I’ve never experienced such dopamine from somebody’s touch;
The excitement of my own fingers wasn’t excitement, but dull lust...
Dianthus caryophyllus-- sweet and lovely.
The way I love a woman is
so much less
Than what straight girls mean to endure-
being lead on is common I’m sure-
And she never fooled me,
She never used me,
Never did her silence spur anxiety-
I readily guided her fingers
deep inside of me- Where
Boys would lean above you, ***** in power, see- there
Hurt you as they *******, and always them to please-
Dear, your pleasure is mine and
you’re the cause of mine and
I know you’ll treat me different; better
than what I thought could be fine.
I’ll make you finish and upon me
Women-love-women love is superior,
Taking her in is a wonderful thing
No longer does peace rhyme
with my suffering-
Today it’s rational fears;
A test, eating well-
Going off to college and
dying off to hell-
Now peace is my room in the morning light
It’s Baroque chords and high marks and
It’s comfort, and people,
And especially her,
It’s her bold mouth and walking hand in hand
The same hands under her shirt-
And finally do I know what life’s meant to mean.
And finally do I realize peace does not rhyme with
mentally in such a better place !
Iris xiphium for hope.
Taking her in...
It’s the way she looks at me with adoration,
It’s the mouth that tilts up with a smile,
It’s those eyes;
her heavy lids- just sweetness, and
lips parted slightly for a while-
It’s the way she’s sculpted marble,
but warm and real in my hands;
It’s the toned biceps and hips and chest,
blending beautifully into round ******* and thighs;
It’s the way she makes me feel so wanted,
yet safe and giddy and shy
It’s her quiet giggle but harsh love-threats,
it’s her optimism that turns to desire;
She’s tender and oh-so-beautiful,
face alight with golden fire-
And when that sweetness trembles, she’s got me flustered too,
I want to touch her slowly,
but also allow her to watch me reduce...
intimacy with my beautiful
Today I fill my stomach
With happiness and greed
I use you and you use me
But not just for the means
I’m here because I want to be,
Because you asked me, kind;
I savor your lips on my lips because
you asked if I would mind;
The way the empty cavity
within my chest is now close to bursting,
You destroy me and distract me,
somehow without the pain and hurting.
Apple blossom, or the flower of fresh joy, optimism, and even new beginnings
She teases me but it’s a welcome sensation
I want her in a bad way
to be pressed together, tight
Flustered and enamored and feeling the time is right-
I want to love her body
and grip her tight to me-
I want her to be rocketing
to hear her moan..
Or lay there with her and simply be.
I want to see contentment in those pretty light-colored eyes
will turn to “Now”
and the way we can be-
hand in hand through town, or playing footsie
under the table
Strong hands, soft lips,
feminine and able-
Smiling with teeth and teasing
Hands on waists and watching her, existing,
being her whole self
And so lovely.
seen in his-
Taken a bit off guard but
as it is-
Respectfully, she’s got respect but
can read a room-
Respectfully, he never made me feel desired,
love still as tombs-
She caught a moment in time,
looking straight into mine-
She got a briefest,
And this is how I know I want her more than I wanted him:
I wanted him companionate, but
I’d let her rail me in an instant.
The ones who bless me with their gaze,
For you it’s the way that I dress,
5’6 and femme, and tall, but tame-
For me it’s the jawline
Strong chin, and cheekbones high,
For you it’s sugar-sweetness,
Tender affection to make you cry-
for me it’s the span of hands
that will grip me hard and fast,
For you it’s flirty pictures
and the freckles on my ***-
And for both of us it’s softness,
girlhood manifest in different ways,
The genuine awe of one another
Authentic breathy praise...
to my girl
Speaking but for weeks
yet your voice has me enthralled;
Take it day by day
but my days nearly belong to you;
You’re a vision of loveliness but could break me in half;
5’2 and petite but fierce and masc;
Strong but sweet,
you make my heart stop
Certain but blushing
and my heart restarts-
I couldn’t explain how fast I would kiss you;
Yet I have a feeling I would just as quickly comfort you-
It’s irrational how tightly you already hold me in your grasp.
Like variegated tulip
What made your beautiful eyes.
knows Love is all I seek-
Not a life of ***, hedonism,
lust, gambling, and parties-
I do want kids,
to be a wife,
To give back in some way-
To be an aid in someone’s life
and live by what He says-
So what if I’m the wife of a woman?
If our kid’s DNA’s half ours?
I don’t think He discriminates-
Pursue what’s good;
That’s what He asks.
The Church associates homosexuality with promiscuity, selfishness, plus lack of virtue and therefore fulfillment... I refuse to do one or the other. I will love women and love God.
The Lilium candidum, or Madonna lily, symbolizes Christian divinity.
I wished so gently for
though gentle, it was
My heart constricted in a
my mind rebelling
I wish a woman would
Sincerely, it’s not all
so help me God, it’s love
it’s love- a gentle
woman, fine and fair.
Viola sororia, a lavender-colored flower associated with sapphics.
somehow the only
stories worth telling
are reliances on someone
Digitalis, or foxglove... Insecurity.
The media chooses not to use other, more common teenage emotion in the stories they write of us.
Your face lights up when you
see me in the hall
It’s such a feeling-
I confess to you, but only halfway
when I murmur, “liking girls
is all I can think about these days.”
And from you, it’s “awhh”
just like when I told you that
“I want you”
That was seven months ago
I’ve such an uncertainty.
Narcissus pseudonarcissus, or daffodil, the flower of unrequited love...
Some days I think I possess
inside my body
While others I wish for nothing more than to discard it and move up, and away.
and that catches me,
caught in the snares of awe and empathy,
plus sweet summer associations.
If misery welcomes company,
we’d enough misery to
warrant one another’s company for a million years.
If dreams be brief and solemn-sweet
content is in my making.
If dreams be drawn and rip’ed rife
more mood is for the taking.
I’s fine for week till suddenly
dreams crash upon my brow.
Awakening in my running heart
that life is just a sound.
or the nobody I’ve found.
Or all I fail to do.
Or who I want and cannot have.
In a gentle way, I shake my world
inside me when nothing’s really ******-up
Conflict is in my default settings
so I revert once the battery’s
Anxiety and insecurity in one’s ****** orientation make youth’s normal dating and socializing a different beast.
Women leave me
though I should leave a
small and short brief-moment
to remain musing.
Better slow than hasty
but she’s looking really tasty
and my heart’s all in.
A guys just not the same but
still my heart’s all in.
I’ve tried, is it
simply still too early?
Is it my youth,
are men acquired taste?
Girls make my heart skip a beat
but who’s to say that’s where I meet,
atop that certain label
simply “I’m not it”
Something explain it all away.
She was a shadow
Changing shape into
women I know–
and it was less about
body language, and more
And I leaned in gently,
and she, regretful, told me–
And I had made
one of those senseless
Gracie, know that
is this how I turn out?
She’s a friend, she’s
“not into it” and I
the guilt of it.
A dream I had
Moonflower, for dreaming of love.
I’ll call you “love”
so quick and bright
with a smile-
but just that “hey,
you’re someone I enjoy.”
And mention you might I
don’t see me as cute
in the way
one looks at a child-
Try as I might
I do take “no” as an answer
Let’s just speak to one another
and I’ll be content.
you wanted peaceable company.
I wanted flame and someone to love.
may turn it up
They weren’t blisses
but rather, corrupt
I needed ending
And that’s what I got
You needed something
So to you, good luck.
any other sapphic women experienced little to no attraction to a guy they were emotionally invested in? just me? ok.
until it becomes wretched
Do I want a girl,
and the mind’s eye says it
could be you?
Perhaps it’s what we had,
and the legitimate possibility
of the lovely new?
eyes, and curves,
for bellies and for little ribs,
and thighs and voices higher up,
and the comfort she gives me.
And the excitement of the experience.
And warm lips, round cheeks,
a gentle touch,
and confiding in someone who understands
a bit more.
I love you but it’s hard to fare.
Sonchus oleraceus, or sow thistle, for intimately confiding in someone.
I love it when women
Venture to try her out
But venture tamped
I feel a little trapped
in what I, for myself, created-
I look straight and I’m private,
I’m Catholic and I’m quiet,
even my sister won’t acknowledge that I love women.
We’ll attend to that eventually.
Bellis perennis, or daisy, the flower of innocence, and of new beginnings.
Drafted in October of last year- I’m pleased to say I have attended to it and come out all the better for it.
the nature of shame...
“I CHOOSE TO FEEL” should be
emblazoned across my chest
like a badge of honor
reclaimed from the badge
of shame it was
White peony, or the flower of shame...
Somehow I’m simultaneously Hester Prynne and a modern woman who wants to get her ******* pierced.
his lips on my skin...
Today I feel I want it all-
tomorrow I’ll want nothing.
And surrendering, at this point,
feels much harder than fighting.
with his lips on my skin
but still; I want
girls, girls, and someone new to love.
written in December of last year
Buttercups, for his childishness.
Youth desires trysts
and new pursuers-
She desires more ease than work
not to seek but be sought after;
And I possess Her like the rest,
somehow I’ve had two lovers-
Yet both are not who I would have picked for myself,
both male and wildly immature...
I get myself into tight spots because of this desire,
and then wish just as quick to run from the admirer,
I want, all at once,
to be wanted and to be alone,
For Logic tells me
“you need none”
but my body wants Youth’s hot fun...
Syringa vulgaris, or lilac, the flower of young love...
As soon as ruby lips met mine;
Contrast this opposite my own fair time
I’d rather she be here. But pieces of
decision come hidden under frail silk
and I remain in bed instead of up
And I want to bare all
but everything’s diluted to me
The words in her pages are
sad but carefree
and I don’t know why it cannot
be that way for me...
I admit to myself I want women,
And I want her world to stop giving me ideas about mine.
And I soak in her story like a glass of fine wine.
I want girls, but this
is not where I can be.
This life as I am is not discarded easily.
title from the novel by emily n danforth
I cannot simply quit a crush
that isn’t how it works.
But a part of me wants to forget it
because that means I can forget her.
I think it’s there, but buried deep-
myself I’ve been denying.
And I told her, once, I was over her
She likely thought me lying.
I decide “emotion’s up to me”,
not Out of my control,
and so far as I have let me be
Will be as far as I will go.
my hips, my ***, the insides of my thighs
I tried to give him tips
but they were tips he never tried
And he would always ask
(nothing wrong with consent except for here)
I told him, fine.
and that action’s
Then there I was, upset-
The question hit me straight-
Was there no chemistry between him and I
or was I the one to blame?
Tiffany, you useless lesbian.
Tag yourself: I’m Tiffany
Tethered, you held onto me,
flame you heated in me-
subtly feeding me
more and more hope.
Today the game has died
your mouth would open wide
gaping in stark disgust-
when someone thought love was us.
Twenty-nine poems too much-
outside, I had quit after “no”-
but inside, a fledgling hope
kept fighting on.
A wish for us did survive
and the Universe urges me,
“Let that want fall asleep;”
“Please just let go.”
Coriander-- dreams of fantasy.
Now I hold back desire
held by blindness and inexperience
If I had any chance
I would ask, I’d confess-
I won’t trespass, and you ought not to know
how I want you.
White cherry blossom, or wistfulness...
the ****** intimacy of two people;
me and Her, and Her and me.
I don’t yet know her face, but it’s
always a “her”
and I don’t know what to do with that information.
Subtle desperation is grimmer
Wanting is gayer when wanting’s not broke.
And maybe I’d fall out of practice
Lull before even begun-
Fester in my own private scrutiny,
but at least I’m not longing for you.
At least I’m not chasing
the boys I’d never wanted to.
At least mine is a secret cradled,
nurtured, unknown, and safe.
Primula sieboldii, or the flower of desperation.
and you took it in stride-
You’re a friend.
What comes next cannot be mine.
And I want to confess,
pull you close,
chest to chest,
and yes I want to talk but that’s all we do.
You’re not into the type of sweet little thing that I miss,
And I miss last summer when you gently flirted
I miss the way you would glance
like I have been
I’m preoccupied, babe, take your time-
I’m not right.
When you said no, it was in six different shades.
And we were talking, leaning,
and we were staring, thinking,
United in avoidance
And I was wanting
longing to close the distance.
in a way that meant desire
And I had just thought, too,
Why is it always men in those faded visions?
or rather, boys, because who doesn’t want a common thrill?
You got your hair colored
I have to remind myself not to occupy my time with endless thoughts of you
I almost wished that you were aware.
It’s almost a thrill how bad I cannot have you.
When I doubt myself, I remind myself,
how could it be a phase-
When that same honey-colored flame
hasn’t died fully
coming up on a year?
Your hands in my hair was a thrill
oddly intimate and difficult to place
Now you’re not even around.
“You and I shouldn’t feel like
shared your all with me
I knew your mind, heart, insides
I wish I’d known your body
My mind wandered
when we talked about nothing in my car
I think yours did too
You told your friends about our possi
led me on and I liked it
Played that song in the car and the chemistry was tangible
Wore the tightest top you owned
And invited me everywhere
We laid down together
and my mind whirled
I think you knew
exactly what you did to me, kitten
with a string.
Were one of the first to know about me
I’d liked another before you
But you were my real first
And once you led my heart astray
You said I’m sorry, and went away
My sister told me you and I
were better gal-pals than girlfriends
I can’t help but think of you still,
Alba suaveolens, or white rose-- for wistfulness and secrets.
— The End —