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E Aug 2021
my body is simply not conventional
to the clothes I wear
there are dips and hills plastered on my figure
hanes doesn't take into account
my weight or my height
so pulling up the waistband
drills the cotton into my skin
with no room to breathe
but I've gotten comfortable

my body is not conventional
to the clothes I wear
the hunch back of Notre Dame meets
a protruding belly that widens my waist
when I wear shirts
fabric strangles my hips
displaying my grotesque body
but I've gotten comfortable

my body is not conventional
to the clothes I wear
aged binders do their best
pools of skin are dipping out the sides
my ribs ache and it's hard to ignore
when my body wails a cracking chaos
pain and overstimulation have crept into dreams
but I've gotten comfortable

my body is not conventional
to the clothes I wear
my body is not conventional
but it doesn't bring despair
my body is not conventional
and you can't begin to understand it
because it's too crippling to bear
it's staggering to peep into a mirror
seeing my being labeled unpleasant
with the unnerving urge to rip my eyes out
and splatter my blood on the glass
why don't I just break down and sit there
it's heavy to carry my weight and be hyperaware
it's easy to not care and maybe I'd take that route
but I'm not conventional
so I'm taking another way downstairs
Looked at my body, thought to myself, "my body is not conventional to the clothes I wear" and just had to write. It's 2am at night but when writing calls, I have no option but to answer.
there are multiple things I am referencing when I wrote this.
I am referencing that I am not conventionally attractive. My body doesn't hurt people but people are disgusted by it because of its transness, obesity and blackness. Certain clothes and undergarments physically and emotionally cause me harm. Most people would not understand the relationship I have with my body. I like it but there are times an instinct comes in and wanting to mutilate it to fit into standards of what's beautiful. Splattering my blood is my statement to society to how harmful standards and social norms affect me as a trans person. And lastly, being ignorant to these issues is a solution, not a great one, but because I refuse to partake in willful ignorance as most typical people do, I will manage these problems in a way that is healthy and different somewhere else. I hope this is explained well enough. Goodnight
dailythoughts Jan 2021
your name is on my lips
your hands are on my hips

we are dancing
you are leading
Alexandra Eames Sep 2020 head back into the pillow.
She quickly straddled me.
She began a gentle rocking motion
with her hips,
with subtle glee.
Her thick, precious long hair,
hung down like curtains of night,
around my lust-flushed face,
until I was in perfect darkness right.
She then began caressing
my nakedness with her feathery-locks,
along my silky, trembling body,
from up my heavenly hips,
my tight, tender, heaving tummy,
my aching, stiff-nippled *******,
my entire being erupting in goosebumps,
chilly and blazing,
spicey and tasty,
aching and burning,
burning -******!
begging for quenching,
which she does
I'm done.
I was made to feel
your breath on my lips,
your hands on my hips,
and your words in my ears.
Ann Pedone Jul 2020
We have survived the
Storm of falling
In love the smell
Of apple and lilies and
Brown sugar fresh
On your mouth and you
Asleep there is
Something blooming in the
Sweet moss of your hips
Wet with patience and wild
Joy that is your body
Made new in love the last
Of night’s
Milky fingers I pull the sheets
Up to your shoulders
And dream
We are
Young again
Just a little before dusk
Savio Fonseca Jun 2020
My Heart Whispers,
U are the chosen one meant for Me.
U are the Woman in My Life,
so inch a bit closer to Me.
Let Me make the Journey,
from your Knees to your Hips.
Later savouring your Rosebuds,
with mouth watering Sips.
Thou art a Beautiful Soul,
from Out and Within
and I desire to write My Poems,
all over your Silky Skin.
As My passionate Strokes,
invade your inner Space.
U Moan and Whisper,
taking My Name with Grace
annh May 2020
Buttered parcels filled,
With rose hips and cinnamon;
Heartache’s antidote.

‘Only the pan knows
how the boiling soup feels.’
- Laura Esquivel, Like Water for Chocolate
abi Apr 2020
touch me feel me
I'm here I'm real

face your fears
grab me there
squeeze my thighs
and look me in the eyes

I'm what you need
I'm the flower you feed
when there's no light
oh how you grab me so so tight

I love those lips
and how you grab onto my hips
and I've never had another
whos been as good as a lover

oh how you make me feel
so so real
Anastasia Mar 2020
bare skin
separating lips
eyes closing
gentle fingertips
hands reaching
parting thighs
tongue searching
rosy skies
fluttering lashes
arching back
hands through hair
walls begin to crack
curving neck
swaying hips
hands on waist
biting lips
BeLoved Feb 2020
Between us
In the shape of a kiss
In my eyes as I watch your hips
And on my tongue when I lick my lips.
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