I think that I am deserving,
Of love, of respect, of boundaries
Of safe *** in ways that may seem unsafe to onlookers
Of *******, lots of *******
And aftercare that's meant to rehumanize the wild parts of me
That sometimes I even forget exist.

I think I am deserving,
Of things
And stuff
And date nights, not being complained at for wearing a dress
Not being called high maintenance for applying eyeliner,
Not being judged for the fifteen minutes I've gotten my routine down to
"Why can't you just wear jeans and tshirts, why can't we just leave?"
Of pretty things, of being a pretty thing

I think I am deserving,
Of security and safety
Of shutting my brain off because I know the man in front of me has me,
My life could be in his hands and I would trust it

I think I am deserving of trusting it.

But I cannot be certain, anymore.