This shell wasn’t meant to open,
Not when the tepid world could never
See the beauty within the calm of lilac,
The serene scent of stargazers,
Or symmetric patterns of hydrangeas

Invisible, walking among
Miserable, unable to remain strong
Malleable to conformist reform,
Toe the line - chanting “one of us!”

Lies told in mirrors
While the mirrors reflect truth,
Yearning for you to see beauty in -
Vivid viola, Cherry blossoms, or blue forget-me-nots.
Longing for you to see me.

And when I took the chance,
Hatched from this husk,
Let the real explore like a settler
Claiming myself one among an adoptive tribe
I knew the doors to your imaginary kingdom would close,

Now, I’m just one of those
No longer worthy of accolade,
Not receiving past praise
Of blazed trails of those I’ve laid
Endowment blessed,
Heart is an open hotel to rest your head
Vacated and yellow taped
Murdered because I dared to show you

Beauty in nightshade, pink rose, and iris
Neon pink, UV purple, and Cold cathode blue
My compass was never broken; it always rang true
It’s just led me through detours to journey here

And I must ask,
Blunt as I could make it.
Until you're unable to turn away
And left to face this,

Truly,
Dearly,

Is it because I’m Bi?

It feels like a blade twisting in my stomach,
And I’m swimming like a shark fin.
I’m sweating from simple tasks and can’t hold a conversation.
Lack of sleep is catching up with me,
And I’m left with a zombie shuffle and raccoon eyes.
If it’s my time,
I’ve resigned myself to it and found solace in a life well-lived,
Constantly transformed.

Why is it so cold when your fingers touch?
Why can’t I feel you on my tongue?
When did the magic lose its spark in the way you used to hold me?
I would do anything for one more dance in the rain.

Open me like a letter,
Spill your fingers over the contents,
And let me say the words that stay hidden,
Locked behind the space of fear.
You won’t find them kissing upon your ears.
I need to know if you still see me.

You’re an apparition to me, translucent,
Passing through me, taking all my life force.
If only it could make your lies work.

It’s so cold when your fingers touch,
And as we kiss, I cannot feel you on my lips.
It’s like loving the air as toxic as it seems,
Choking me as I fall between the seams of reality
that there is no fae to guide you back home.
And I dance alone.

A voluptuous, scrumptious, and delectable
Drawing of hunger, an insatiable hunger.

Hourglass-shaped,
Her waist pinched,
Designed to be held by sturdy hands,
Dancing dainty fingers trace
Ample mounds of bountiful, bouncy hills, topped with soft pastel pink rounds
That draws hunger, an insatiable hunger.

She lies upon a sea of red silk,
A stark contrast to her white,
Like wine and milk. Thirsty, she yearns for a taste.

Her thighs parted like petals,
Revealing the delicate blush of a dawn-kissed bloom.
Carnation pink petals glisten with clear morning dew,
Perfuming the room with intoxicating poignance,

Emerald eyes call to the distance,
A reward for his resilience.
He takes his time to crawl,
Like a hungry wolf stalking prey,
His tongue slashed through gently parted lips.

Pressed thick upon smooth, slicked pedals,
He tastes hints and echoes of her nectar,
Finding little kisses pecked to find her hooded specter.
He flogs while lapping sloppily,
A butterfly to a flower:

Draining,
Drawing patterns, 

Writing love letters,
Breathlessly.

Until his hunger is met with fullness,
And she lies spent, wrapped in red silk,
Drizzled upon her like a garnish,
Strawberry cheesecake.

We misbehave,
On the world stage
No accidents made
As we embrace
Stubble caught in your lace
Let the light fall dim,
As the colors bleed and fade.

When the crowds aren’t watching
Won’t you strip for me?
I want to see that pretty white maw
Grin like a starving wolf before taking a bite of my raw
Take a piece of me with you if it'll help you stall,
But I want every inch of your skin exposed
Won’t you show me what you never show them all?

I want to know you behind the dermis,
I want to feel the grooves of your scars
I want to walk a mile in your vermis
I want to know your thoughts
Trust in me, as nothing could ever harm us

Tracing fingertips along your lips
But am I touching a soul that sings for this?
Can I reach into your anima,
Hug the you that hurts the most
Could I be a healer?
Am I just snake oil wrapped in silver?
I want to see you naked,
Show me what’s under that porcelain pachydermous.

I want to be your provider,
A secret whim, secret insider
A sung hymn, wrapped in you like a spider
I can cocoon in this web we can stay in bed
Tangled in linen but I want to go deeper,

I want to see you weep from the things left unsaid
In the times you can’t get back
In the words you never read
Tickling the sorest soars on your back
Let me take these daggers,
Discard them with condemnation,
I want to see you naked…

We twist and twine,
Like lovers divine
But I know this time
You won’t get to hide.

So let's misbehave -
On the world stage
Everyone watching from their seats
We give into the pageantry of expectation,
Who cares anyway?
They’ll never see you the way I do.

Reckless little robin
Flying through the rain
Don’t you fear the lightning,
Ringing down heaven again?

Shiny little coat
Feathers drinking cold
How you float along the streams of a zephyr
Like a finger gliding past a tear.

Upon the perch-
Watchful puffed, shaking off the wet
I admire from afar
How not even the cold slap of rainfall
Can cause your wary little crown to fret.

Little robin -
How I admire from afar
Wishing we could converse
In a cacophony of chirps and tweets
I’d ask you advice for on braving the weather
You’d ask me how to hide beneath the sheets.

I was once a victim,
Beaten until I was compliant,
Compliant enough to hurt another—
my mother.

I was once a victim,
My innocence used up,
My core torn from a father I could only adore.
What is hatred to a child, but fleeting tantrums?

I was once a victim,
Slipping in my drink,
Strobing long batted eye blinks,
Her heat driving down on my forbidden rod.
She told me if I didn’t, I wouldn’t make it home.

I was once a victim,
Two days before the altar,
My fiancé souring sheets with a friend who stole everything from me.
Everything bled into colorless ravines of distrust.

Victims are strong,
Not for what they have endured,
But for what they become,
Superseding the cyclic nature of dirtied deeds.
They find solace in cautious optimism, defining strength beyond measure and measuring only by their own successes.

There may be no angels soaring high or a guy in the sky,
No balrog of the deep depths or adversary king on hell’s high throne.

But demons are real,
Whispering echoes,
Phantasmagoric memories cast upon the mind by way of
scent, sound, or touch, until the rush comes to **** us up.

The truth is,
even a hermit like me is never alone.
We victims can form like Voltron,
Together joined to heal and change the story.

A wise woman on the tv once told me
“There is no fate but what we make”