Soft arms,
eyes, and curves,
for bellies and for little ribs,
and thighs and voices higher up,
and the comfort she gives me.
And the excitement of the experience.
And warm lips, round cheeks,
a gentle touch,
and confiding in someone who understands
a bit more.
I love you but it’s hard to fare.

And very much not you.

Venture to try her out
But venture tamped
I feel a little trapped
in what I, for myself, created-
I look straight and I’m private,
I’m Catholic and I’m quiet,
even my sister won’t acknowledge that I love women.
We’ll attend to that eventually.

his lips on my skin...
Today I feel I want it all-
tomorrow I’ll want nothing.
And surrendering, at this point,
feels much harder than fighting.
I’ll continue
with his lips on my skin
but still; I want
girls, girls, and someone new to love.

As soon as ruby lips met mine;
Contrast this opposite my own fair time
with him
I’d rather she be here. But pieces of
decision come hidden under frail silk
and I remain in bed instead of up

And I want to bare all
but everything’s diluted to me
The words in her pages are
sad but carefree
and I don’t know why it cannot
be that way for me...

I admit to myself I want women,
And I want her world to stop giving me ideas about mine.
And I soak in her story like a glass of fine wine.
I want girls, but this
is not where I can be.
This life as I am is not discarded easily.

Everything *****.
I cannot simply quit a crush
that isn’t how it works.
But a part of me wants to forget it
because that means I can forget her.
I think it’s there, but buried deep-
myself I’ve been denying.
And I told her, once, I was over her
She likely thought me lying.

I decide “emotion’s up to me”,
not Out of my control,
and so far as I have let me be
Will be as far as I will go.

I miss your tender kisses before midnight
Our bodies embracing one another
Like the last piece of a puzzle
Put together on a rainy Saturday morning

Unemboldened resolve
whispers wantings
to me
Now I hold back desire
held by blindness and inexperience
If I had any chance
I would ask, I’d confess-
Yet you
and I
end here.
I won’t trespass, and you ought not to know
how I want you.

My thoughts are often consumed by
the ****** intimacy of two people;
me and Her, and Her and me.
I don’t yet know her face, but it’s
always a “her”
and I don’t know what to do with that information.