#demisexual
He is unattractive.
Or is he?
For one can be found alluring by a person
But ugly to another
Or maybe it isn't recognized at all
Person one
May find attractiveness in his smile
His eyes
His nose
His ears
His fingers
His mouth
And his personality
And will love those features so much
It outshines the others that aren't handsome...
By stereotype
Person two
Is not interested
Person two does not find interest in
His Smile
His eyes
His nose
His ears
His fingers
His mouth
Nor his personality
It's not their type
They don't feel it's necessary to associate with that person
An whether they say it out loud or mentally
They find him unattractive
And then there is Person 3
A demisexual or pansexual usually
They don't see him by his physical qualities
But by his internal
What they feel
How they react
What they understand
His humor
His respect
His kindness
His eccentricity
And will love those features so much
It outshines the appearance
It's natural for them
It's hard for them to see flaws in that man they love
Nothing is wrong with the man.'
Just 3 Sets Of Eyes
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 1:01 AM UTC
it confuses me daily that so many people are having ***
even at this very moment, i'm sitting in a book store
sipping coffee that burnt at first sip
where are they? in their homes? in public?
i'm avoiding it, not on purpose
that's just how its worked itself out
there in the moment with them its exciting
adrenalin in pumping and all thats left is to strip
yet i won't let it happen
i feel the rush and the chills but that's it
the closest i've ever got to feeling what you call 'horny'
it all started with a cuddle
he said it best himself, don't cuddle, you'll catch feelings
no ****
probably could have went a few more years
but he was drunk and all he asked was for me to stay
to cuddle
and that's what we did
all night
i woke to him in a slight sweat and it happened
i then knew what you are supposed to feel in those moments
after that, he messed me up
now i can't handle him grabbing my hip to move me out the way
he can sit too close and there it is again
what the hell?
and other people have felt this since they were preteens?!
i would burst
what i don't get is why it never happened again
other boys/other girls
kisses/bites/touches
no one makes me feel the same
that feeling is what has been missing
why i couldn't say yes
i feel nothing with them, so i sit there fully dressed
he won't get too close
it's funny because he doesn't remember us
we were laying nose to nose
on new years, what i wanted happened
we kissed in the mix of the dozen lips
we got home and yet nothing happened
i didn't want to take advantage of our blurred visions
one day i hope i get it
the feeling he gave me
he may never say yes
but i'll always have that feeling
**** demisexuality
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 3:37 PM UTC
Everyone has this checklist in their head
of reasons to have ***
I'm different from my friends
their lists are small and not all requirements need to be met
and thats okay
but mine looks a little different
and thats okay
[ ] Emotional Connection
[ ] Physical Attraction
[ ] Understanding
[ ] Length of Time Known
I'm learning and growing about who I am
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 12:08 AM UTC
Trapped inside this cranial ride,
I watch from eyes determined to hide.
From your lips,
your body,
your sensual touch,
I find the feelings are too much;
I shut myself in.
The sin of such a travesty is too much for me to take.
So I sit inside my skull and fake,
the only way that I know how;
I dance around your moves,
speak my lines, and bow.
I put on a play and perform perfectly
to distract from my abnormality.
These open eyes reveal lies of a cowardly man in disguise.
Who locks himself in his head alone to practice every ****** and moan.
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 9:19 AM UTC
Your skin
touching mine
your flesh
pressed against me
the rush of your blood
and the curve of your
spine
and arch of your back
and the motion of your hips
and the crook of your neck
is where my lips connect
to your skin
and your flesh
and your heart is b-b-beating against
my ch-ch-chest
and your hands wander
and my mind wonders.
and I can feel you growing ever the warmer,
almost achingly feverish
where my thighs connect to my loving and lustful hunger.
and the world crashes and rebuild and crashes and rebuilds and crashes and falls and rebuilds and then we reach a type of beautiful and extravagant crescendo and the world slowly rebuilds piece by piece
as I collapse and crash with your lips on my skin
and I've never felt more at peace.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 8:32 PM UTC
The First person I loved, well, really, it was a childhood crush. It shouldn't have meant anything, it shouldn't have mattered. At least that's what I told myself over and over (and over and over and over and over). But at that time, my life was the brewing, churning clouds before the storm settles in and stays for awhile, painting the sky a putrid yellow-gray, filled with all sorts of worry and dismay. But he cared, and he was my friend, and I actually mattered to someone. That's what draws you in, isn't it? Mattering? And then you fall for the way they laugh and hold themselves, and the way they interact with others and how they hold their head up and the fire that burns in their eyes. That fire that keeps burning, even when it's raining. Even when you know something is off, something is terrible, but even if you asked, they wouldn't tell.
The Second person I loved, well, I never really loved him at all. Call it a type of Stockholm syndrome. You get ****** into friendship and obsessed with the idea of being normal, so you try it out. And then you don't act right, you don't behave how they want, you don't do what they want you to do, or you just look at them the wrong way or talk to the wrong person. And then it hurts and you try to escape, for two and a half years out of four and half. And it leaves you broken. You're not able to love the same way you thought you were supposed to, you're more guarded. You break down when people touch you, hug you. Another boy tries to kiss you and you immediately burn the bridge. It takes you a year and a half to recover enough to go out with anyone.
The Third person I loved was different. She was different entirely. After being in the midst of a quickly deteriorating abusive relationship, it's easy to cling onto anything that looks like a lifeline. And that's unhealthy. But I loved her nonetheless. And she hurt me, and I hurt her. I will always regret it, and I will always be sorry. I hold no anger towards her, and when I think of her, it's like a phantom-pain. There's nothing there to hurt, but I know it should. And why shouldn't it? She was the type of girl that would leave any man breathless and dying. Everything I wanted to be. She was beautiful and confident and bold. She was smart and interesting and fun. But she was selfish, and she was a liar. And in the end, it was her beauty that destroyed her, and us, whatever type of friends we were. That ended before the Second.
The Fourth person I loved was a foolish decision. A mistake that I made, but I made it, and it's mine to own up to. I was vulnerable and my mind was fragile, but I fell anyway. I needed an escape, so I used love as an excuse. And he broke me. I honestly believe he took pleasure in that. In breaking me in so many ways. He knew about all the different ways I had been hurt and used, and he hurt and used me anyway, in new and "improved" ways. I fell, and he let me fall, trying to "cushion" the blow of my harsh landing back into reality with syrupy sweet lies and rocks with sharpened edges like "You're the only person I want to be about forever," and "You're more beautiful than the sunrise." while simultaneously reminding me constantly how damaged I am and how he doesn't care to help with it. What he didn't know is that the sun always sets. And I'm glad it did.
And Again, the last person I'll ever love like this, is the First. I fell in love with the way he smiled and the way he interacts. I took flight and dove headfirst into this love instead of falling when I saw the fire in his eyes. And it was no longer that I mattered to him, to tell you the truth, I still have trouble telling if I matter to him now. As I've said, I just don't love the same way anymore. No, I love the way he is gentle when it's difficult to be, or the way he laughs, or reacts. The way he's not afraid to apologize, but is always honest. I will always love the fire in his eyes, and the way it never goes out.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC
I was ten years old when I had my first crush.
I didn't think much of it. I just sort of assumed
That you should care for your best friend enough
That they were the person you wanted to reach for
When no one else was there.
I assumed that love was the type of thing
That you give freely and kindly.
But when he was lost to me,
Due to moves and my own issues,
I held on tight to those feelings,
And attempted time and time again to let go.
But I never felt anything
Since then.
No spark of affection,
No desire to get to know another
In that sense
And I faked a lot of things I shouldn't have.
I faked affection and I faked caring.
I faked being a normal teenager,
Because normal teenagers have crushes and think people are cute,
And recognize attraction and flirtation and actually want to go to dances
And hope that the cute boy will kiss them.
I faked it all.
Because I never felt a "crush", nor did I find anyone cute,
I didn't recognize attraction or flirtation, and I would have rather died than go to a dance.
And kissing I found to be disgusting, I would have rather chewed on rocks.
I thought I was broken. That I wasn't quite normal.
That there was something wrong with me for being so utterly repulsed
By *** and the like.
And in a vulnerable, broken state,
I mistook a bravado of kindness that hid selfish intentions,
For a chance to normalize myself again.
And I broke further,
Through every time I was yelled at,
Berated,
Controlled.
Told not to feel,
Not to react
Not to respond.
For so long, I thought I was broken
Because I cannot look at someone and find them anything more than
Somewhat aesthetically pleasing (if even that).
I cannot look at someone and see any potential
Sexually.
And upon being with you,
And clicking with the conversation,
And that first hug,
I realized I was not broken.
Rather I was a lock,
That needed the correct key,
But the key had been there
All along.
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 11:58 AM UTC