Sexual Musings :: Content

Let me share with you the parts of myself which no man has ever excited-
stimulated-
touched-
caressed.
It’s the longing to feel a soft breath
against my ear during a slow song,
gentle hands guiding me away from the crowd into his chest,
the very same chest which guards the blueprint
of my soul’s contentedness,
the very same chest which beats out a pattern
of my pulse against his skin,
the very same chest which holds tightly
to the way I am too much
for I have always been ‘too much’-
yet he takes my temper
and my jealousy
and my obsessive apologizing
and my defensiveness
and smothers them all
with reassurance
and a smile meant only for me.
Parts of me yearning to sleep next to him,
the type of sleep which doesn’t
have my body rustle in fear of waking alone
but instead a sleep falling over me
like warm blankets
when my feet are cold-
comforting and present
and still there in the morning.
Parts of me begging to be acknowledged
as I shiver in goosebumps at:
a minor guitar riff,
a heavy brush stroke,
a line of poetry,
or sun on my collarbone.
Most of all,
and in this my greatest failing to myself-
parts of me which hold onto hope
I will someday hold the hand of a man
I can close my eyes
and pray with.

Copyright © 2016 Pearl Bayou

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