My brain is the key.
My mind is my greatest escape to which I retreat to every night as I curl into my bed wondering why I do everything so wrong.
Why I say everything so wrong.
My very life seems to be a disgrace to many; my every breath like a sour slap to their face, a stinging slap upon their cheek.
I crave intimacy in the way my lovers breath whispers through my hair, caressing my ear as strands tickle my cheek.
I crave that closeness where it never feels like my lover is close enough; I want to wrap my flesh around their flesh until our bones become one giant distorted blob because life doesn't make sense & neither do we.
I crave intimacy in the late night puns & hushed giggles because shh the children are asleep so peacefully; they're so beautiful; we are so happy.
My brain is the key to my love, for love is nothing but an overdose on hormones & I acknowledge that.
I am perhaps too smart for passionate love; my mind is far too logical for romance,
I don't do folly & gayness. I do logical. Patterns. Stability. Safe.
My sexuality is obsolete, nonexistent, vacated lot please do not knock, no trespassing allowed
I do not crave sex. Sex is work. Sex is nudity & insecurity & vulnerability. Sex is another person on your body wanting your attention & love, writhing on top of you, when all you want is to finally FINALLY FINALLY have 5 MINUTES OF PEACE before the children awaken.
yes.
My brain is the key to a lock that can't be opened
The key is rusted.
YOU ARE READING
Healing Through Poetry
PoesíaA collection of poems I've written over the past two years... they may not be 100% in order; I apologize. There are poems about abuse & sexual assault but I will put trigger warnings in front of those. These are poems about my life.
