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Raven Feels Jan 31
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, I'm well aware that nothing makes sense, including this poem :>

content is not something we give consent
you hold your pen yet the ink spills as it pleads
you are a walker of blood yet it sheds out when cut & bent
you have a brain yet the tongue blurts out the feels

content is not something we color
just an acceptance of the past
just a canvas you get to paint with limit bother
good for a day then a memory till it lasts

the kiss of a palm forehead & cheek
drafts in my head just to render a sleep
some greed never fed or a satisfaction to meet
yellow till it goes mustard & a shade deep

the saving of a night that would save the day
it's like it's gold but your swallowing the sand?
the desperation for a treasure at some bay
how would I even find content when out of the hand?


                                                         ­                         --------ravenfeeels
Alicia Moore Oct 2021
such a heavenly taste it has,
the softness of the intentions so inviting and warm.
I feel you smile against me,
oh how the sun will shine on this moment in my memory.

vastly different from when a kiss isn’t just a kiss...
such a hellish taste it has,
the roughness only being soothed in passing by spit.
your hands are daggers against my hips,
oh the poison of expecting more when you didn’t ask.
the light of day will never shine upon this memory.
Kennedy Sep 2021
i don't recognize you in crowds anymore.
i don't have to see your face in every
blond haired, blue eyed,
morally ambiguous white boy.
i can hear your name
without the lightheadedness.
there is no more bile to hold back.

i don't think i will ever forget the feeling
of you. your hands. your tears
on my back the minute you finished.
the moment you realized
what you had done. tell me,
did your god ever forgive your sins?
and by sins, i don't mean the ****.
you didn't fear the legal repercussions,
you feared hell.
adultery was never your scene,
you told me.
you did not have premarital ***.
that was a sin. and you were not a sinner.
tell me,  what did your priest say?
did he tell you that god loves you?
just as he does all his creations?

do you remember what you told me?
you repeated it so many times,
it is engraved into my brain.
you kept telling me god would forgive me.
that he would forgive me.
god knows we can't help but to sin.

but i wasn't the sinner, and
i'm sure this will come as a surprise,
but your god does nothing for me.
there is nothing your neglectful
and lazy at best god can offer me.
you're going to tell me
that "our father" who art in heaven
chose to lead you into the temptation
of my nonconsenting body?
should your benevolent savior be real,
just know you were delivered to evil.
salvation has nothing on the trauma i've endured.
bahulakaji Mar 2021
What does that even mean?
***?
What is that?
If we’re both drunk does it count?
Because I am the definition
awkward.
So a drink in me might
do her a favor.
But just for the first time.
So I’m comfortable enough
to draw my line,
Or the line of hickeys
I left on your neck.
Consent.
Because you’re awkward, too.
A lovely Shade of shyness.
But all I could do was look you
in the eyes
and say you’re beautiful.
Then a tear streamed down your face.
And all that came out was
Are you sure this is okay?
Consent.
Because I’m not comfortable,
the way you’re comfortable.
The way taking off my shirt
feels like letting the sea inside me.
So I’ll keep my pants on,
until the lights are off.
And even then,
my scars are screaming.
It’s ringing in my ear,
my biggest fear.
When she stops and whispers,
Are you sure this is okay?
The first time I’ve ever heard
those words.
Was the first time I felt free.
For the first time,
I didn’t feel *****.
When you whisper in my ear.
I thought, Baby!
I love it when you talk
consent to me.
Man Feb 2021
there's secrets, hidden beneath the corduroy
a world of wonder
where admission varies
guest to guest,
it's a game of guess
at whether you're let in
or you're like the rest,
corduroy's the fashion though
for sure
they'll be others
that hold you high up
just to push you down under
Academic conversations about consent are a pure form of agony,
Listening to students and Professor toss around the word like it's a hypothetical commodity,
As if there is question that autonomy and dignity belong to every living thing in that room.
We are asked to dissect the most intimate of physical safeties as if this is a lesson in biology,
Solve 'consent' like a particularly challenging calculus problem,
Pretend as if this didn't happen in the confines of my body.
It's excruciating to have to take an equation,
We'll start with y=mx+b,
And calculate which variables determine basic human decency.
I was young, female, gay, autistic, bipolar,
Clinging to his professions of love like they could stitch the gaping emotional wounds,
And somehow that didn't make me human when he did the math.
I don't know how to argue, Professor, with which philosophical tools,
Professor, that I was a person, Professor,
When he decided to **** me.
Nuala Nov 2020
Can you hear me, can you feel me?
You can feel me
purple spiderwebs mark my *******
proving that you can
so if you can feel me why can't you hear me
i think i said no
i said no
but you're invading me still
unwelcomed visitor.
I closed the door and you don't have a key.
but you don't require one, do you
you have a lockpick. a lockpick on each finger.
the skeleton key on your tongue.
I don't hate men
No, not at all

I am simply aware
Of what they are capable of

I don't hate men
That would not be fair

But neither is the act
Of *** without consent
i don't hate men
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