Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
acacia May 20
I forgot the way the damp Flemish heat sticks to my skin,
the tossing and turning and half draped blankets in a warm night next to a warm man whose chest rises and falls slowly and deeply and steadily in a deep sleep,
my heart and ***** swells with a soft and settled joy, yet balloons my eyes with a lip licking lust — a lean man, thin legs and arms with the right hints of muscle definition, a strong and defined jaw : his nose, perfect; just how I’ve dreamed of a man since girlhood, and I have a man from my stories, from my dreams, showing me the world and filling me up to the brim with his love —
a honey man, a Taurean man, a man of Venus …

my husband.
acacia Feb 25
if i was normal I’d
wouldn’t call you daddy,
wouldn’t want to cuddle with a stuffy
and wouldn’t need to be treated like a child,
maybe it’d be better, maybe it’d **** more

but I want it and I need it,
don’t deprive me
acacia Feb 21
he looked at me with stern eyes,
the first man to stay with me while I grow up,
the first man who looked at me in my eyes and said,
"Babies need to grow up too," and he said it to me with fatherly eyes
and soft kisses and a stern holding hand, not leaving my side and holding me as
I bloom towards the sun and sky, tells me he is always my daddy and he is always going to love me
like a father does, but I must continue to grow. He wants to love me and nurture me, he is tending to me, I see it:
it's blossoming, his love, he did it, today, he has finally shown me his fatherly love, his husbandly love, he's done it, and now I know it,
now I see it, I know, you, I see you.

My birthday is coming up, and he wants to see me grow. Sorry, don't take it the wrong way. You are the only one who has ever encouraged my growth, who has never held me back.
all through the nights
acacia Feb 16
look at me as if I live on the walls of the Musee D'orsay

with jeweled eyes, flushed cheeks, and slightly parted lips stare at me

imagine resting your head between the parabola shaped mounds on my chest, long and heavy like a mother goddess’,

watch my supple and ample body bewitchingly: me, in the likes of Rubens, Vermeer, or Caravaggio —

raise your eyes and rest your soul upon me.
acacia Feb 12
can't you tell me how I'm so **** the way I move my body up and down? don't you want to tell me how beautiful I am?
from your hands I could leave, wouldn't even break your heart right there, don't know if you would care, you probably wouldn't stare, what kind of point is this?
acacia Feb 12
it's the f'ck'in' saddest thing, you come out of the bath and your sick body, feverish but still I find you pretty in all your illness, in all your indifference, look what I've done: mythologized in my head, in my heart and especially in our bed / what have I done? / how can i get over this when I want you to see it too, take my eyes and putthem in your head and then I want you to do, all I want you to do, is stare, at me, and see the sparkle, see the lovely, see the divine, see it the same way, see it in your way but the same way, you know? You know? Why? Because you don't even try.
acacia Feb 12
wandering through the dead, through the forest, thinking over clouds and how you smile,

how I treat you like your perfect because I believe you are despite your ignorance, despite your indifference - maybe I'm wrong.

but still, some part in me doesn't care, I want to stroke your hair, come right here.

pretend to give me affection, choke to use your words, and come right here.

don't you want to tell me how beautiful I am (I'm not hiding), why do you act like I'm no where to be found?
thanks corbin ****
Next page