Loving you is easy it is easier and more natural to my body than breathing. It is more of an instinct than survival ever has been. I think it keeps my heart beating.
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@august-possum
Loving you is easy it is easier and more natural to my body than breathing. It is more of an instinct than survival ever has been. I think it keeps my heart beating.

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Loving you is never difficult, you're so kind and loving and safe and warm and it will always be easy for me to love you because you make it so easy by being so you.
I would like to, if he would just ask, grab him with animal desire by his hips and jaw and pull him into me and kiss and bite so rough he cuts my mouth on his tooth but i do not care and i keep on going and my hand wraps around him and his neck and his waist and his dick and i stroke rub grab caress and tease and i feel him moan and breathe for it. Breathe for me to be rougher like ive known hes wanted it this whole time but have just been afraid to hurt him. I want to no longer be afraid and for him to feel it exactly how he fantasizes it when he touches himself to the thought of it. Make him unbearably hard and take hin in my mouth, against my tongue, up and down and up and down and his head thrown back while i stroke him like a puppy.
I want to run my hands through his hair more and pull and bite harder and spit in his mouth a little more and leave more marks and be more hungry for him i almost devour him whole. I want to throw him down ass up in front of me and slap and grab and kiss and finger and tongue about. I want to stretch him out and keep him needy. I want to slip my fingers in him and curl them up gently into him and pick up a pace. I want to fuck him. Hard. I want to fill him.
I want to slip myself inside of him and stretch him out and have him arch his gorgeous back (his gorgeous gorgeous body) and for me to pinch his nipples and pull his hair and make him so fucking loud for me and make him beg for me and go limp for me and to be edged by me and to cum for me. I can imagine him, in my head panting "im close, im gonna cum" and i wont stop for him to find a polite place to cum i want to make a mess of him only to clean him up afterwards with my bare hands and tongue.
When i met up with you for birthday brunch my hair was wet and frazzled on the train there because i had rrushed to the station after my shower. I didn't get to style my hair and the heat of my running body, the cold air and me constantly running my hands through it made it frizzy and i got crazy hair.
When i got there i asked you of my hair looked crazy and you said no and i kissed you and you kissed my hands and you held them and i wanted so very badly to grab your entire face and make out with you but i don't think the 11 o'clock patrons came for brunch and a show so i didn't but in my head i did and still am kissing you now.
When we were walking down coal drops yard and i caught my reflection in the shop window and saw my hair poofed up on both sides, like id just been shocked by something. I had crazy hair and bloodied underwear (id started my period) but i didn't mind at all. You made me feel pretty.
Lately i moved into my own room and i don't share anymore. Sometimes i would sleep talk and got worried I'd dream about you and admit everything to my family in my sleep.
You've been in every single one of my dreams since i got my own room. I've been going to sleep on-time more often lately.
I love dreaming about you.

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unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair unfair!!!!!
I'm not in his room! Not in his bed!!! Not under his weighted OR normal blanket!!! Hes not skin to skin close to me?!!! Im not cupping!?! His fucking jaw??!? Hes not kissing me so hard n good n so deep it feels like im letting this tongue throat fuck me!?!???! Sosososoooooo unfAIIIIRRR!!!!!!!! >>>>>:(
I want little marks on the walls where i kille a big bug once and now the stain dont come out so we hastily painted over them and you can only spot it if you're looking for it and i want little scratches on the sides of the door that shows height really poorly and each age label uses a different pen because we can never find the same one each time and i want the rooms to be inconsistent and the books to be unorganisable but ill organise them anyways because they're not there tk be pretty they're there because its what we like to read and i want there to be a shard of glass wheyyy under the kitchen counters at the back because the skirting in broken leaving a gap and glass from one time someone broke a cup got back there and we still haven't realsied and probably never will and i want it so that if someone decides to strip the paint off the wall 7 different layers of colour come off the wall because we changeour minds ever so often and i went through a phase where i really liked pink
Sometimes i wish everything we've ever said to eachother was written down on paper so i could stick it to my walls like an artist sick and mad with affection so overwhelmed with all the goodness of it it exudes out of their body and into their environment.
In and out of conciousness and drifting away
I imagine 5 different futures with you
And in all of them i am happy, and content
And i would not mind imagining 5 more
In and out of consciousness on a lazy sunday afternoon
In 500 years from now they will find the first one in excavation site East-C and the digging will stop and at first the council will try to dismiss it as store bought and one of many that can be easily found again (they want to continue with construction) but others notice the imperfections, bumps, cracks and fingerprints in the pinching of it. They put a pause on the whole operation on East-C and bring experts in.
A week away from them finally concluding all the details they need the second one is found in site East-F, almost matching but not quite confirming alot of what the experts had already concluded. Digging stops in all of the East sites as they search for more and a whole month of standstill passes. Other precious things are found but no more of the first two and those who organised the standstill are bitterly fined for the inconvenience.
Then, after a year of bickering and pulling and pushing they are both on display, 500 eyes watching everyday 500 eyes watching every night. Side by side in a little glass stand soaking up all the attention in the room, near more pottery from its time with a small plaqard between them. Most people who stand and read also come in pairs.
"Info: Discovered 2 months into the citywide "Home The Homeless" project under 2 sites 4 miles from one another. While imitating popular ceramic styles of the time they are amateur pieces done by hand, made cheaply with readily available and mass produced mixed-media materials (modelling clay and acrylic paint) only preserved by the conditions in the soil they had burrowed themselves in acting as an oesophagus. Records found by archivists confirm in the early 20s there were 2 teenage residents residing in both locations at the time though there is limited information on who they were."
"Title: The Lovers c.2020"

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The only thing that lets me leave you
After we've spent time together
is knowing i will see you again
This is not the last time i kiss you
This is not the last time i touch you
You tasted like honey today
I wonder what you will taste like next week
<3
Poems To The Boy ★
And he's gone down to the local store. Where there is very little in stock for now. And its spring. And there are bulbs for sale. And I dig my tools into the dirt and unearth years of abandon from the soil and turn it over to face me in all its desolation. I'm glowing sticky with sweat and the land is fertile. And I think of him. Walking down past the bus and broken down minecart system. Picking dandelions and daffodils along the way growing off the side of the path. Stirring up conversation with man woman and child alike. And he doesn't have to do it. He can do anything else but he buys tulip bulbs. He comes come and he sets them away for me. And I kiss him. And I hope he knows I mean it.
₊˚⊹♡ poems to the boy ₊˚⊹♡
The quick need to devour and consume you like
the followers of Christ, who will drink his body and blood ,
to feel closer to Him
And the followers of Mohammad, who will abstain from drinking and eating,
To feel closer to Him
And for the follower of love, myself, who will taste you
To feel closer to him
and I fast from your touch when you're not around
To feel closer to him
Like the Holy Communion - Like the hour of suhōr
~ i am not catholic to feel any guilt with you
"when archeologists dig your skeleton up they'll see your bones were female/male"
A) trans skeletons are able to be identified by archeologists so not really sweetie
B) im not exactly significant enough for someone to graverob my fucking corpse up and play with my bones at random
C1) if an archaeologist is peeking at my bones its probably been very fucking long from my death and i wont give a shit because (you guessed it) I'll be dead!
C2)Plus thats alot of time for technology to advance and I'll assume people would have at least gotten to the point of consistently being able to match a record to some bones and will see who i was.
C3) If not? No biggie i dont give a fuck I'm more stoked about the sociologists and historians finding out who i was.
C4) is a fucking explosive
Has someone who has actually received the training to be able to do this, let me tell you 90% of the time, you can not actually identify a skeletons gender with 100% accuracy just by looking at the skeleton. There will always be someone ready to argue that you are wrong.
Historically, grave goods are the biggest tell as to a person's gender. Until DNA is obtained, anyway.
Now it is entirety possible that given the low number of survivable grave goods we actually burie people with in modern society, should we lose access to a vast majority of written texts (i.e. we lose the internet) archeologists may just assume we were an androgynous society that had moved past gender. Or that we were a highly egalitarian one.
Coffins are the biggest grave goods we use, and they are unisex. So if you want to be identified after death, have a carved metal plaque put on the inside of your coffin. An archeologist will thank you.
In recent times mumsy dear (in an attempt to insult me in the same fashion she has done for many years now) will look at me and comment on how im doing something like "such a man/bloke" and when she says that i look up at her dead in the eyes and just
And she immediately gets it and is uncomfortable. Turns out im probably fucking intersex and after digging into me for being queer n GNC theres literal biologial proof that she can't deny or blame on "westernisation" (im not a transmed or care much about bio in relation to being lgbt but its the hard evidence SHE needed to hear)
In her head I've now got a damn good reason to have been GNC n bi this whole time so she can't say shit or act like it's some new idea ofc it'll take her time to ever come round but for now we stay silly :3

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I have been indoctrinated by some fruity lookin puppets
"when archeologists dig your skeleton up they'll see your bones were female/male"
A) trans skeletons are able to be identified by archeologists so not really sweetie
B) im not exactly significant enough for someone to graverob my fucking corpse up and play with my bones at random
C1) if an archaeologist is peeking at my bones its probably been very fucking long from my death and i wont give a shit because (you guessed it) I'll be dead!
C2)Plus thats alot of time for technology to advance and I'll assume people would have at least gotten to the point of consistently being able to match a record to some bones and will see who i was.
C3) If not? No biggie i dont give a fuck I'm more stoked about the sociologists and historians finding out who i was.
C4) is a fucking explosive