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Kitten Yvad Sep 2020
awe
There are roses in your
coming through the airwaves
your voice tingles
down my spine

and held in loving suspension
we are pure frozen in time
delayed gratification and
I can't believe the reward

my ears get hot and
tummy swims in circles  
god before  you
touch me i cannot

and i tell you this;
i cannot i whisper this
pleading into your eyes
i cannot my god
i moan this to you in surrender
taken over like the war
is over and now i'm melting



because you think
i taste so good melted
And i know there are roses
in your voice because
they bloom for me

from your tongue
velvet and soft for me
and then strong for me
rugged and firm like rocks
for me

your voice and your
attention my reward my reward my reward


I want you to feel
within your core im in awe
of you


im just arrested see?
watching your roses
im wide eyed, tied; take such pleasure
in arresting me

.
a poem for when the sounds i make with my mouth aren't the words of praise that I want to come out (especially in queerplatonic relationships and quasiqueerromantic friendships)... and a poem of gratitude for people who like to remind me of the things i don't need others' permission for. im so alive about that profound encouragement.
Raeann Apr 2020
Dont mistake my kindness for flirting

When you wanna show me a cool game or book that means I didnt agree to see your *****.

When we have something in common that dosnt mean I want your hands around my neck.

When I say goodbye with a hug your hands shouldn't be at my ***

when I pull away it dosnt mean I want a kiss.
It's hard makeing friends as an adult
Poetic T Oct 2019
Claustrophobic in this vessel
                 that I'm
contained within.  
I'm floating on a sea of waves
                                 that never settle,
but slam upon my
                     subconscious membrane.

Stimulating my pools to never close,
                              but stare into the vastness
          of unfulfilled gazes.
The charcoal stain within the white cleaner
                       than the pool it resides within.


I feel like I'm a victim of non-consensual birth,
            never wanting to be in this void less
                                                      manife­­station.

Could I delete this construct, make it static.
                  Yes, but my breath is continual,

and my morality keeps me tied to this frame.

              I'll have to live, even though i didn't
agree to this sting tying me to this existence.
I was not free
until you brought  me
to this secret place
where you intend to keep
my desire for you

I was not free
until the chill of steel
enclosed my neck
and bore the sign
that I belonged to you

I was not free
until I felt your cord
pull my arms behind my back
to make me suffer for the
want of you

I was not free
until your gag was
shoved into my mouth
so that I could not
cry out for you.

I was not free
until the darkness of your
hood closed off all senses
but the touch of what
I need from you

I was not free
until  I heard the cut of air
before your whip
curled round my helpless form
to leave the marks of you

I was not free
until I felt the bars of
the cage that now
encloses me and keeps
me safe for you

Francesca Anderssen  2016
My Novels and verse portray a different kind of loving, that reflects my own lifestyle. between consenting adults who care about one another,

If you like my work, or not feel free to say so either way.All criticism is valuable and I do take in on board

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