Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Moon Wright Nov 2021
I really thought
I had it all figured out

Asexuality was the perfect
description of me

I didn't look at someone
and was sexually attracted
to them

Everything was perfect

Then, I started to notice
how women are hot
and men are attractive

Now, I know I'm not straight
I never was
but this was new for me

The possibility
of me not being straight
but not being asexual
was real now

But I think I have it
figured out

I am still asexual
but I am demipanromantic

I have to know the person
extremely well and have
a connection with them
but gender doesn't matter
for me when it comes
to a love relationship

Sexuality is a fragile thing
always subjected to change
but when it does

Things will work themselves out
and if there isn't a label for you
you can always make one
My struggle with self-identity once more
Arlen Jan 2022
They tell me I'm missing out
That I should find a person to be my home
But I am not lacking
I am whole
All on my own
SophiaAtlas May 2021
Straight Boys: Why are all the hot girls lesbian?
Lesbians: Why are all the hot girls straight?
Straight Girls: Why are all the hot guys gay?
Gay Guys: Why are all the hot guys straight?
Pansexuals: Everyone is hot. What do i do?
Asexuals: What.
I'm pansexual and this is honestly how I feel.
Juno Apr 2021
These poems I write, they’re my escape,
though from what I do not know.
My troubles seem to evaporate
the moment I let them show.

I write about love, which is ironic
because I’ve never had a lover.
I used to think maybe I was sick;
for I’ve never longed for one either.

I write about death when I’m feeling down
so I can cry to something new,
but thinking to when I lost real tears,
maybe they weren’t mine to lose.

Even now as I write this down
- my headphones on but paused -
I wonder where my motives are bound,
for I always feel like a fraud.
Juliana Apr 2021
I am not a monster.
My veins are the same
purplish hue as yours.
Pricked by the same needle,
an arrow can penetrate
my body, soul escaping
my still-beating heart.

I cling to your words.
I want to know your soul,
your deepest insecurities,
the smallest bits of joy.
I want to be in love.

The universe is a gallery,
each star a mosaic of art,
colliding and combining
to create beauty;
a masterpiece;
I could look at you for eons.


I am not to be perceived
by capitalistic powerhouses.
Life is not a final boss,
requiring each day
to serve as a minigame,
collecting coins and
jumping blocks until
I reach the Bowzer.

I live for myself,
the sole goal of
collecting knowledge
and seeing stars
until my final breath,
at which I can say my life
felt complete once I knew
that every single person
I met had smiled.

I will not live by
checking boxes off a form,
stats gathered frequently
on if I’m living it right.
Because there is no right.

There are only idealistic fantasies
that maybe if I run fast enough,
I could one day hope to reach.
There is the rustic murkiness
of yesteryear attempting to
****** its claws on my soul.
It will not win.

This game of mine
may not be multiplayer,
nor do I have the cheat codes,
but I am having fun,
I am exploring the world,
and I will not listen—
never listen—to you saying
that I am playing it wrong.
Juliana Jan 2021
There are days in which it seems as if the whole world is falling down.
These are the days in which the ceiling crumples at my feet.
The days where everything I’ve ever known,
my very sense of being
is destroyed.

Who am I?
I thought I knew.
I have lived over seven-thousand days traveling on this earth.
Seven-thousand days as myself.
How didn’t I know?

My entire life,
one could say I was boy crazy.
Has that changed?
I have never been one to change childhood crushes every other week.
If I had a crush, it either lasted years,
or it never existed at all.

Just a wanting.
A wanting to feel.
A wanting to love.

But I can love.
I love my friends, my family.
I love the stories I read,
the characters I create,
the fabric of our reality.
I love being alive.
But I don’t love like that.
And I want to.

Now, I watch as the dust starts to settle.
I kick the white powder at my feet,
starting to regain my breath.

Focus, breathe.
You’re okay. I’m okay.
This is me. I am real.
This is me. I am real.

In the corner, by the rubble,
a slip of cardstock lies innocently.
This is what my life has succumbed to.
A piece of paper with three humps and a tail.

I am okay.
I will learn to love myself.
I will learn to be proud.

Maybe one day this card will slip away,
the rubble will disappear,
and I will wonder what the fuss was all about.

But not today.
Today I will hold this card close.
I will slip a metal band around my fingertip.
I will do what I do best
and learn, and love, and feel.
Because that’s all we can ever do.
We can grow.
I want to grow.
I am greysexual. This is me.
Butch Decatoria Apr 2017
Is it a sin to self gratify,
Until the lower third eye spits glue
All thru the night
Madly repaciously lacivious you

Almost desperate to find
Even when we were warned
Likely to go blind
Symptoms of a hairy Palm

When one can't come close
To transcend or feel
The ethereal bliss that glows
In the love made real,

And there's no one worth it
To waste such sighs,
Is it sinful as unwanted births,
or better to self gratify?
E Jul 2020
I am the A
And that’s okay
I’m not too young to know
My sexuality
You know
AStarsHeartbeat Jun 2020
I've been crying again but don't worry, I’ve been trying to understand myself and my sexuality since I was young, i came out as bi just to see if the label fit but it feels too controlling and the box gets a bit smaller each time I say the word, I’ve lied to friends about hook ups that never happened and have pretended to enjoy kinks for people I'll never meet in real life. I feel a disconnect to who I'm trying to be and I don't know if I'm scared of accepting myself or if I'm scared of someone getting too close for me to learn it hurts. How do I explain to my friends that I don't understand when they complain about not being with someone for a few weeks when it's been years and how do I know when I'm telling myself the truth and when I'm picking another label, I need someone to tell me what to do but there's no one to ask so I'll keep going until I understand.
Next page