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You’ll be surprised at
how numero-****** I am;
loving everyone and everything
but me.

To change the way you look
by effort or by crook
You must first, above everything
accept your present look.
saturn Apr 21
feelings are weird
sexuality is a spectrum
romantic orientation, too
but deciding where i stand
under the umbrella of a million terms
is difficult. i think i’m

asexual
at least
i’m pretty sure
i should know by now
being eighteen and all
but
who knows, right?

but as of lately,
i don’t even think i romantically like anyone
my crushes are all based
on looks
and i can’t imagine going on a date
with any of them.

i know that everyone struggles
to find the label that fits them
and i know that the label doesn’t matter
and i know that i don’t need a label
but i wish i knew what mine is
just so i could know
so i would know what to say
when i talk to myself
what i should say when someone asks

because saying “i’m not sure”
makes everyone think it’s a joke
because everyone will think
i’m a confused kid
and i am but
not in the way they imagine me to be.
I have two facts for you that exist in my mind -
1. I am normal
2. I do not 'feel' normal
I have never considered myself to be normal.
I knew i wasn't normal when at the age of eight after my Dad left my school hired a counsellor just for me,
and i wasn't normal how after then i was the only pupil to be from a single parent family.
I wasn't normal when just after this abandonment my body entered early puberty,
and so feeling weird didn't stay a feeling, it became a reality.
Picked on for things out of my control, i felt like a freak.
Even at the age of eight, every aspect of my identity was up for scrutiny.
I knew i wasn't normal when in secondary school i would purposely get detentions
to spend time with teachers, because the the turmoil of the school yard was a teenage no man's land.
The company of those my own age is something i will never understand.
I knew i wasn't normal when i would hesistate in conversation when someone asked me who i fancied in my class.
The name of a random boy rolled from my tongue in an attempt to not blow my cover.
I knew i wasn't normal when my tweets coming out as bi were passed around like breaking news.
When i tried to defend myself in the interrogations, teachers would sternly say to me -
'That's not appropriate to be talking about in school' like my sexuality was a hushed secret, even though the straight girls were never silenced.
I knew i wasn't normal when i had to say i was bi, when in fact this was a lie. A lie to help me pass, pass and hold on to some straight privilege.
At the age of sixteen i questionned my worth and value as a person, trying to blame myself for the treatment i was subjected to.
I knew i wasn't normal when i decided to place my emotional pain onto a physical space, then patching up the damage as a form of ironic self-care.
I left school for a college, desperately seeking freedom from the constraints of a Catholic school.
I never felt comfortable in sixth form, being there my mind felt like a spinning waltzer i was strapped to for two years.
At seventeen i knew i wasn't normal when i was prescribed the maximum dose of sertraline, then mirtazapine, venlafaxine, fluoxetine.
By this point in my life i was on a tally of maybe six counsellors and two CBT therapists.
I knew i wasn't normal when i started to blame myself for the therapy not being successful. Maybe i was just meant to be depressed.
Changing my thinking styles, emotional regulation, journalling my feelings and triggers, i knew exactly what i had to do.
I knew i wasn't normal when i clung onto certin things as comfort, like my adoration for florence and the machine.
I started to experiment, toying between wanting to fit in and wanting to be myself, painting bright eyeshadow on my lids as a vibrant mask to carry me through.
I knew i wasn't normal when i reached out to the local crisis team experiencing auditory hallicinations, hearing sounds only meant for my ears.
My emotional states are a product of my trauma, which is difficult to navigate as the world's greatest performer.
Maybe i was meant to face this internal torment, or until now i hadn't considered i could be neurodivergent.
I told her that I am not ready
I am not ready for the world to know
This closet might be limited but I am safe inside it

She got angry
She got impatient
In the end she could not take it

I tried to say that it was not about her
I tried to explain that she was my 8th wonder

I do have pride even though I hide
I am just not ready to say that I am bi
i do have pride even though  hide
🌈🌈🌈
Morgan Vail Apr 3
Hum
Dimly lit and sleep deprived
Aphrodite's curse and blessing
Hums like the embrace of a lover
And its ecstatic affection
Is a comfort between dull moments
Uncaring and cold
Just how I adore them

The bottle
The hum
The dream
Addictive
Meaning less than nothing
And more than everything

The walls have ears
But my bed has arms
And it holds me tight
Like my chains
Love debilitating and wrong

I find myself lost in the sheets again
Venus has her own curse
And I have my blessing
And we both suffer through them
Beckie Davies Mar 30
I hold her to my chest
She is perfect
In this moment I blissfully forget
All the rigid 90's concepts
About sexuality
Heaven forbid we be who we want to be
All the strict social standards
Demanding to be met
The heterosexual marriage
The kids
The house
The picket fence
It was my ideal 90's dream
To be a suburban queen
Funny how a dream can turn into a cage
A man who vows to love you can turn on you with rage
Holding the girl was the perfect escape
From a place gone stale with pain
I hold her to my chest
She is perfect
When I am with her I am who I am meant to be
I throw away the picket fence
I wave my flag
I don't have to pretend
I hold her to my chest
In this moment beauty is everywhere
In her embrace
I finally feel safe
Holding the girl erases all the shame
holding the girl erases all the shame
💜🌈💜
Dinara Tengri Feb 23
My hair is not a raven's wing,
A wave of black, a river whose
treacherous shores
you long to explore.

My ******* are no doves: soft and fluttering;
No Promised Land of milk and honey:
there is no one to welcome you home.

My stomach is not a valley of wonders
leading to a treasure so many men
have died for.

My eyes are not slanted windows to some
ancient Eastern wisdom; no obsidian pools
that many great warriors have drowned in.

My features are not exotic
My skin is not silken
My soul is not unknowable
My mind is not inscrutable
And my body is not your muse.
Benita Dalby Feb 19
Closer to one another, we take a stride,
our hearts & bodies about to collide.
Leaning in taking in each others scent,
delicately our lips meet, so present.

Heat builds between us, we’re on fire,
so much passion ignited, I feel your desire.
Licking your neck as you moan with pleasure,
now I know I want to taste your treasure

Together we undress, lay down, I am your Goddess,
My love for you translates to ecstasy, that I promise.
Tantalising & teasing you with my tongue
I move up & down your body, now my lips are clung.

I look up at you, my blue eyes meet yours,
all of you in my mouth tasting your divine flavour.
I feel you throbbing & hear the delight of your moans,
moving up & down, slowly, so deep, harder you grow.
19.02.2021
Benita Dalby Feb 13
Between the times you are not near
I remember the scent of you so dear
I close my eyes, I see visions of you
In my dreams I pursue what is taboo

When we become one, I feel your perfect fit
To each other’s pleasure we commit
Energy releasing as alluring moans
Our souls embrace a love that forever grows

Hands moving like clouds
Lips connected, we feel aroused
Tongues tasting each others essence
In these moments, we are wholly present
09.02.2021
Dear god,
    make me ******,
    and sensual,
    and all that they feel.
    For my body does not belong to me
    so long I find no pleasure in it.

A soul without a body,
Even poetry’s no remedy––
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