#polyamorish

Syndeamory: a form of amoryflux, gamyflux, and/or ambiamory where someone’s place on the monogamy-polyamory spectrum and/or type of nonmonogamous or polyamorous relationship(s) default to the orientations and prefferences of their partner(s).

Example: Stella is syndeamorous. Stella feels a sense of ambivalence towards relationship type until they are in one, at which point their orientation defaults to match their partner(s). If dating a monogamist, Stella would be a monogamist. If dating a nonmonogamist with a prefference for open relationships, Stella would share that prefference. If dating a polyamourous trio who wants their relationship to stay closed between the four of them, Stella would want the same. This does not mean that Stella has no standards or prefferences when it comes to who they’re dating, just that once they find the right person or people, they want what the relationship type that their partner(s) want.

Origin: Syndeamory comes from the greek σύνδεση or sýndesi, meaning connection, because syndeamorous people’s orientations are inherently connected to those of their partners.

Flag meaning: The syndeamory flag is based off of the polyamorous and monogamous flags. The black and white stripes at the top and bottom of the flag come from the monogamist flag. The black and white represent the two members of a monogamous relationship, and the set is repeated, both to illustrate that this is one of many possibilities, and to maintain a sense of symmetry to represent how a syndeamorous person’s orientation mirrors their partner(s). The blue and red stripes come from the polyamorous flag. Blue represents the openness and honesty among all partners in a polyamorous relationship, and red represents love and passion. The gray stripe represents the many possibilities that lie between monogamy and polyamory for a syndeamorous person. The greek letter, σ, or sigma is the first letter in the greek word, σύνδεση, or sýndesi, for which syndeamory was named. It’s golden color represents the value placed in relationships, and the gold stripes found around the flag represent how relationships are intertwined in every aspect of this identity.

I'm sorry for the second time I saw you,

When I cried so hard I made your shoulder skin soggy.

I'm sorry

That I reeled you in to this lonely cloud that surrounds me.

You found me at the wrong time,

Pulled closer to my isolation through this isolation.

One week in and I'm pulling out my childhood trauma

In the hopes you'll understand my sadness,

I hope we're not moving too fast.

I'm just trying to keep up with the pace of this still world.

Because we kissed.

I blinked.

And then the whole world disappeared.

I wish this were a romance novel

So that phrase existed to harmonise with hope

Polygamish (polyamourish or polygamorish): a partnership that is mostly polyamorous, but with occasional exceptions.

I hear about all the sheets you've been sliding underneath

And my phone remains silent of your late night thoughts of me

And I wonder how any of your words

Could have ever meant a thing

We're reckless, always have been.

That first kiss a drug, never should have taken it.

Thank god for soundproof, they're all sat next door while I'm fucking him harder, fucking him louder.

We're reckless. No locks. Daytime sex. Blowjobs in the kitchen. They still haven't guessed. "Thank god I'm not pregnant." "From what sex?" Still they don't know. Sex once a day, every day, twice a day, condoms from the doctors are out in two weeks, he buys a box more, they pick it up from the door, 144, is he having that much sex? With me, yes. Missing lectures for the flat to ourselves, kissing in the club, invisible in a crowd of so many eyes.

Today i’m dressing up for no one but myself,

In nothing but red lace and skin. 

And I’m writing symphonies in my head, directing movies

For no one’s enjoyment but my own.

Oh, the poetry my fingers can write

On a canvas of my own familiar skin.

A hundred times I’ve been made into art at the hands of another,

A hundred times I’ve discovered a new way to sing for a crowd,

But a thousand times I’ve heard the raw voice of my own touch,

And nothing is sweeter to me

Than my skin on my skin on the red lace decorations,

And the melodies I can write