#fantasy writes

as I’ve grown older, my sexuality has become intertwined with my sensuality.

this space is becoming a reflection of both my inner and outer worlds.

a diary.

my poetry.

a glimpse into my internal monologue.

a glimpse into every aspect of me.

never fully seen,

Once held too tightly

for anything to grow.

A field gone dry.

Then came the rains.

Mercy at first.

A promise of spring.

The rain did not cease.

Quicksand.

The smell of cut grass.

stuck

all in order

light at the window

room still

a self untaught

in being held

taught only

to endure

careful

capable

sufficient

now even silence

does not suffice

this is no life

for silence

it asks for warmth

a table alive

a small hand tangled in my hair

big hands at my waist

for the sweet release

of no longer

bearing myself alone

yet still

I know not

how to come to it

only this

I am ready

still

part of me grows everyday into a more beautiful version of myself but then comes overwhelm and uncertainty.

my discipline is being challenged by my desire for comfort. comfort being challenged by my need for control.

confusion from longing for a life I feel so close to having and a life I feel I just lost.

lost because I’ve found a new. a new way of valuing devotion over discipline. a new way of pushing myself towards kindness over punishment.

a body meant to be loved rather than deprived.

a life meant to be lived rather than survived.