Violent Touch

My gender is a writhing thing in the corner 


I poke it with a stick every so often to see how it will move.


My sex is a warm pink alien I cup in my hand


There is a violence to my own touch that I cannot shake


When I touch my fingers to a boys palm I am asking him to hand me an answer 


When I press my lips to a girls mouth I am trying to steal something I've never seen


When I wrap my arms around a person's waist I am begging to fold them into my ribcage


And keep them there until I can see the way forward 

This poem is about: 



I like this poem a lot.

It seems that you might have a lot in common with me.

I would like to get to know you and keep expressing.

Hope you will except the friendship.


-A.K.A Serenitymeanspeace or Serenity


Fitzy Marlote

Hunger, loneliness, and longing flow like water; each word a rock or fallen tree.


This is absolutely gorgeous. I want to live inside the lines of this poem.






this is really good, I can resonate with it a lot.

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