I shaved my legs with razor tips
Spraying perfume, rubbing wrist to wrist
Thigh high socks with scandalous drawers
Letting you in for touching more
I asked you with a message sent
No love but lust just potent
For fingertips across the skin
I can't believe I thought of letting you in

One morning, I met and ate with Sappho, and
as we watched the baited ducklets come and go
described to her a calming Violet i had found
within where seeded crops of crocuses grow
who strapped the sunlight as its belle bijou
and subtle symmetry that provided words
to break the heart and warm the blush skin of you
I told her of broken morning birds
simple songs robbed by her brushed deviled tips
I cried of endless pages cast in ink
to describe her perfect purple lips
of desperate letters to help me understand how her love thinks
All other stem of Violetta fail to me
to remind of the shadow cast over flowers then
or to undermine those bright pink cheeks i could see
in its petal hues - usual rhythm couldn't convey to pen
this wild moss of a creature that heavn's sink....
a smile, and she replied
"a picked and pressed flower
for a Violet of my own", said the Girl.

how many people
can you really fall for
because in between a life full of
clutter and confusion
i somehow managed for fall for
a girl and a boy

hey, you say
he smiles and you
light up
he throws his arm around you
and replies, hey, bud
you want to cry and trace his lips
and make him
mutter your name
while you have
your tongue in his mouth
you want to touch him,
trace the map of your heart
all over his skin
but he can't know
he won't know
if only he knew you'd be dead meat
with ****** carved on your skin

she grins at you
and loops her arm through yours
and shows you her bra
does this dress make me look fat
and you wish you could say
you're beautiful
and touch her back as you
slide the dress down her sides
but she chuckles and says
i think that boy is cute
why won't he ask me out
and you know
she can never know
she won't ever know
if you ever touch her
she'll push you away
yell, ew, a ****

you're oh so pretentious
you, such little poser
you've only ever been with guys
you don't know what it's like
to be with a lady
what a grand faker
you're so not special
shut the **** up

you're being ridiculous
don't you like ***
well you've never had it
find someone to put you in bed
I promise you'll like it
the best time you've ever had
now don't be a freak

here's something unheard
not in *** ed
and not at home
who sleeps with whom
is a business of their own

i like girls
and boys
and cats
and dogs
and fruits
and vegetables
and light
and dark
and black
and white
and wine
and water
but i'm different
because i like both sexes
because i don't care whether you have
***** or a *******
because i can't tell anyone that i want to try having a girlfriend
because then i won't have friends
and i won't be able to live with my roommate anymore
and my family won't love me anymore
i'm not ashamed
but i'm ashamed because you'll be ashamed
but i can't say for sure
you're ashamed aren't you??

i have a secret
i may be bi
its wonderful, really
i really wish they would understand though
i hope you dont judge me fore having a preference for girls
sorry, its just me
boys are pretty cool too

I'm a lot gayer than originally planned.
*******. Gay.
But I'm worried about the concept;
not sure if it's right to use the word
“gay”
when (I'm sorry I said it)
I'm really bisexual,
just particularly into women right now.
Like,
is that bad representation
of my sexuality?
Only encouraging
bi-erasure?
It just doesn't have the same
“umph”
to say
I'm feeling particularly
bisexual today.
But I've been telling myself
over and over
that it's okay,
no matter what
I'm feeling today.
I don't
need
your
box

anymore.

I am in a fight with myself
My heart screaming to be heard
My head shutting it down
The pure thought of this feeling terrifies me
But at the same time
releases me
I listen to my heart
Her smile is pure and gentle
Her eyes filled with care and hope
Her touch is like that of a feather against my heart
Fluttering constantly
I listen to my head
He likes the sound of my voice
He likes the way I appear
and the touch I give him
like a taste of love that you would find in a whiskey bottle
He takes what I have
But how can I give him what he wants?
When she already has it?