If my body could speak… no scream…
There is no small or big….
There’s just this thing that is all consuming.
I’m frightened when you’re away from me… scared and worried for your safety…
Lost and overwhelmed and exhausted from giving and doing and explaining…. Jesus I’m tired.
This thing is a beast and it must absolutely fest in order to thrive to grow and to show that I am.. I am… I am all that I can be want to be have to be need to be and can’t be more of or less of…
Through my skin and the pain it aches and it burns and it rises and falls and through it all I scream and squirm and all the while all I can do is yearn for it’s return to give me bated breathe to leave a lingering or harness in something else for more…
I’m too chaste you say but just because I’m not giving it all away doesn’t mean I’m not worthy of the time and skills it would take…
if only you’d allow yourself to give your whole self to me… while you learn me… know me… enjoy me… clothes on and as my friend… fuck that bitch, COURT ME.
I love that it’s too much and never enough…
I love that while I stay in such dismay that I cannot display myself for just anyone….
Not even you.
I love that it’s me.
I love that it’s me that is worth waiting for.
I love that love isn’t worthy of false love.
I love that it’s all too good to be true and you’re now blue and I don’t have to UN-love me in order to please you.