why do I
feel like there is nothing for me
never any happy days
or acceptance or praise
just the heavy burden of feeling imperfect
and failing to please a stranger
the stranger being society
and its impossible to reach standards

the touch of someone's skin on another's
has been written about plenty already
but I swear to you
his touch is like no other
so innocent and fragile
but commanding and strong
yet gentle and caring
while he bites me all along
the sting and the numbness
the tickle of his tongue
his touch is like no other
so right though so wrong
all my softness in his clutch
his being needs no guide
he knows where and how to touch
as his eager mouth finds mine
his tracing fingertips bring chills
up my chilly and bare spine
his touch is one that nearly kills
but I am on cloud nine

I feel like I am never good enough.
or is it that everyone else expects too much?
I am not perfect.
I am flawed like they are,
and I accept that they are ignorant
of their rude and judgemental ways,
because I am assuming that deep down,
they might feel the same.