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Fuck you dear.

Fuck your seriousness,

and your judgment that I am chaotic.

Fuck your trying to ask me:

 

“why are you doing this?”

“why do you keep dropping stuff on the floor?”

“please - organize yourself.”

“your bag is open again.”

“that’s not what you said fifteen minutes ago.”

 

Yes babe.

Watch me drop everything on the goddamn floor.

Try it.

Feel how good this is.

 

Fuck you dear.

I don’t like saying fuck you much these days.

I used to say it much more often, I’ll be honest.

Sure feels nice to say fuck you sometimes.

 

Fuck you dear.

Especially your autopilot smiles.

But forgive me too.

You do say things so nicely to me.

Gentle.

It’s heartwarming.

I had this warmth only once before in my life.

Or twice.

Maybe more.

But not more than five.

And even so, how you warm me up ,is the first time of course.

Cause there is one of you.

 

You are you.

You never judge me

- even if you do, it’s only a natural bit.

You do not judge and cut like a knife.

Only sometimes.

Thank you for that.

That's fucking rare is what it is.

 

The judgment is mostly mine.

And so it has always been.

As I received it from the generations before me.

So I say fuck you to the one judging me in my head and not to you of course.

I hope you know that.

Really.

 

You say things so kindly.

Makes me change.

Makes me embody the change.

Makes me better.

Makes me calmer,

More collected.

Makes my quotidian life sounding less like top forty music on the radio.

Makes me believe I can.

Makes me see I can learn other ways.

 

But fuck dear,

I use this as an entrance today.

 

Allow me please.

Cause,

I miss being a rebel.

I miss allowing this internal riot to surface.

Miss my leather jacket and my studs.

 

Recently I found the leather coat your ex gave you.

Put it on.

Suits me.

Suits you too.

Suits us.

Yes dear leather suits us, doesn’t it?

 

I have become more fur coat in the past years.

More caring.

Softer.

Feels good.

 

Leather is nice too.

Makes me feel hot in another way.

In a fuck you way.

 

Fuck it’s nice to say fuck you.

To accuse you.

To point my finger at you.

To blame you for all the things I keep doing that irritate me too.

I don’t like to be reminded of them too often.

It’s not sexy.

I want to be sexy.

Can you tell me I am sexy?

Why do I care so much if you think I am sexy?

 

Am I sexy?

Why do I want so much to feel sexy?

Do you feel sexy darling?

When do you feel sexy?

I am not sure about that one.

I know you feel sexy in bed but that’s to be expected?

Who makes you feel sexy other than me?

Beyonce? 

How can we feel more sexy together?

Shall we get Beyonce at our place for drinks?

 

We talk too much about work and money these days

and the groceries and the stores and the cat.

It’s ok we must talk about this too.

I think we talk about all this very beautifully.

We are both smart.

We can be silent too which I value.

Had no clue I could live with someone and that it can still be so incredibly beautiful and alive.

 

Is this confusing?

Am I too much?

Intense?

Too often on defense?

 

Are you offended?

It’s ok if you are.

Know that this this is just some rebellion 

so I can continue my day with less steam.

 

But I do want to be sexy with you.

Not have sex I said.

Feel sexy.

Sensuous and alive.

Go slower.

We can have sex too later.

With music.

But first I want to touch you and you to touch me.

To be myself with you so you can see how shy I actually am of you.

Of you being sexy.

I am shy to touch you to look at you really.

I am shy you might say you don’t feel like it, especially when you look sexy.

 

I am not always shy though.

Like now - feeling safe behind my screen.

I feel very sexy and ready and true.

And beautiful.

And a woman not a child.

A woman who just wants to enter you again and again in new ways.

To receive you with open limbs, wounds, mouth.

Cause I love you.

I love you like I have never loved before.

I am the woman who loves you.

Kiss me, please.

Not because I am asking you but because you want to.

I want you to desire me.

I want myself to stop wanting you to desire me so much.

I want your sexual validation.

Can I give this immensity to myself?

Wow how great that would be to give this sensuality and sexuality to myself

To stop demanding it from you.

To masturbate more.

To masturbate more.

Why are we not taught mastrubation in school?

Why do I want to learn everything at school?

Why don’t I just go find out for myself.

GO FIND OUT FOR YOURSELF WOMAN.

USE YOUR FINGERS.

MAKE THEM JUICY

THEM DRIPPY 

WITH YOUR OWN OR WITH SOME HELP.

 

Don’t shout at me bitch.

 

This is nice.

I like writing like this.

I like this voice.

I like that this is allowed,

at least,

here.

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