Lesbian Poetry - Blog Posts

insatiable hunger.

yearning yearning yearning, i write more of these little poem things than i do actual fan-fiction ‘m sorry </3 i hope you enjoy this too, though!!

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i see her face. in the ever fast movement the spinning world around me makes, i always catch her face — she’s driven me mad.

wether it be her or not, i’m hungry, and the more i starve the more insatiable i am bound to get. i need to feel the warmth of her flesh beneath my own, purposeful fingers holding, kneading, gripping her in place right next to me.

right on to me.

right, being one with me. yeah, thats right..

i am hungry in a way no plate of food can fix, nothing can take this empty feeling away from me, someone can only fill it.

and she looks so pretty, my body wants her to be the one to fill it. my mind is sick and elsewhere, twisting every other face on the street to have the same curve of her lips, the sharpness of her eyes missing the gleam they get at the sight of me. oh how she loves me.

in a moment of such depravity the roles have no names attached and the bodily abilities are only for each others hands to touch. i wanted her to hold me by my hair, and i find myself gripping the back of her neck. i wanted her to greedily steal sounds from my lips to fill hers with, and i find myself devouring her every breath whole. i didn’t want her to do things to me anymore, i wanted her.

tsunami

what is a crush?

it is searching for your initial on those

"interact to claim" posts

it is thinking of your name

every time someone mentions a crush

it is looking at you

just to look

i cant help it that you're pretty

it is making you laugh and then

saying more things to make you laugh more

amid the ache in my stomach knowing

you dont feel the same way

it is promising myself

that i wouldnt write poetry about you

but here i am

with a poem

it is the ocean going out

so slowly that you dont realize

until you are standing

and a wave looms large

and you cannot help

but be swallowed

by the sea

disappointment

when my phone buzzes

and it is his name

and not hers

ocean

i told her she was the ocean

but she didnt understand what i meant

and i couldnt explain it without telling her

that i like her

she is beautiful and steady and consistant

waves crashing on the shore

i almost told her she was the moon

shining in the sky

i dont think she would've gotten that one either

the moon and the ocean and the night sky

and everything gorgeous and powerful

and always, always there

things you don't do for a girl you're "just friends" with:

walk her anywhere she wants to go, even when it's cold and wet outside and all you want is to be inside

be jealous when she brings up a boy you know she used to have a crush on (especially since you're pretty sure she's over him)

get butterflies whenever she moves her chair closer to yours

smile when you see her name on your phone (and refuse to remove the hearts you put on her contact when you had a crush on her, even though you're totally over it)

stay up way later than you meant to just to text her because as soon as you go to bed it's over

and you definitely, definitely dont want to kiss her. not the girl you're just friends with. not the girl you say you're over

not happening

i'm not going to let myself

have a new crush

not this soon

not on her

i'm not going to let myself

like a girl so painfully straight

and break my streak

of not liking girls who could never

like me

but what happens

when i catch myself thinking of her

or looking for her

or lighting up, briefly,

at her name on my phone

when she's creeping up on me

like the first sign of spring

six more weeks of winter

i can't go any more days without her

but i promised

no more girls

not right now

definitely not her

shut up, heart

romeo

"i don't even like her anymore" i say

"i'm completely, 100% over her"

but

sometimes

when i let myself glance at her

i understand how romeo felt

shouting at that balcony

"I know what I am when I look at old pictures long, wavy hair, eyeliner, mascara demure and mysterious. I know what I am when I wander on my lunch hour to sample new fragrances and linger near lace lingerie. I know what I am when I paw through these old letters still warm with old passions held firmly in wide rubber bands. I know what I am when the sight of old white t-shirts and the smell of Old Space can still make me shiver and smile I know what I am in the dark when you fill me your hands and your mouth in the head of the heart of my center I know what I am." "Old femme", Madeline Davis, The Persistent Desire, (Edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)