Do I disgust you because I want ***?
The hypothetical argument already slides as
graceful as tourettes, and I can
feel imaginary bile and panic creeping up my throat
and into my
mouth as I attempt to talk 'south'
Talk '*****' to you
Talk '*****' to me, 'baby'
I'm silently wishing you'd save me from the
awkwardness of this talk, wish you'd take me by the breast
and walk me through the rest of your likes
and dislikes
Because, I want to make you feel higher than a kite
or ******, or crack, or smack,
I want to stop endlessly repeating all the things
that I might lack
Because, you don't seem to want me anymore
No matter how much you adore who I am
Can you fill me in on the gaps please, I want
to know if you feel that you can have same aching need that I do
My sexuality is like an un-erasable tattoo
I don't take strives to hide it
I don't feel that I need to
But am I deranged in thinking
that you think I should be ashamed to?

Darling, I want to *******.
I wish I didn't think that this
might be an issue.

Correct me,