what remains

i am nothing but a ruin collapsed and radiant cracked open to let the light in

unfortunately there is no name for the peace that comes after breaking open right; no word to describe the sweet wreckage you leave me in again and again

i would love to tell you what it feels like to get my walls torn down over and over again what it feels like to get trespassed to have the doorways of my hips open up for you to have my chest be a stained-glass window trembling from the wind

i am nothing but a ruin humming with our echo

#poetry #thisferalheart

#thisferalheart #poetry

015 | on submission

from an outside perspective it is giving up control someone held down too weak, maybe, to know what they want

from an outside perspective it might be disturbing seeing someone seemingly lose all their dignity seeing someone give up on themselves shamelessly, ferally, carnally

the outside perspective sees welts on flushed skin hears pleas for more or mercy watches games they think deranged

but being held down is being held open being controlled is being seen in my rawness and still chosen

in yielding i offer my mind, my ache, my need, i offer so much more than skin and i trust to be rebuilt

where you see collapse i feel becoming where you expect ruin i know rebirth

being held down is being held open being held fully

#thisferalheart #poetry #whattheflowersknow

what i want and what i carry

one: what i want

i want to be wanted chosen in every moment not just for who i am but for how i make them feel alive

i want someone to look at me while i am just quietly existing like they are about to eat me

i want my presence to be craved my energy, my laughter, my quirks

i want my face to be touched like it's sacred and someone saying “mine” because they treasure me so much they never want to let go again

i want to feel like i am not asking for anything you didn't want to give anyway

//

one point five: [breath catches] the longing, the ache does it make me weak u n g r a t e f u l or is it just my heart being brave being soft enough to hope to want

//

two: what i carry

loving someone deeply, truly, no regrets – and still carrying a quiet ache for something they can't quite give you it's such a tender and vulnerable place to be in

when your love is solid and beautiful and true - but there is this one current underneath that's lonely; it's not wrong to feel that way though definitely complicated.

it's not ungrateful or selfish, or betraying them in your heart; it's human. and the desire to be seen, touched, wanted in a way that feels right to you is not a flaw. it is your truth.

being the “more” one - the one who wants more, feels more, aches more - can be so overwhelming; it can make you feel like you have to shrink your desire to keep the peace

but your softness, your kinks, your need to feel wanted and claimed and adored is valid, not extra it's deserving it's you

there's space in a loving relationship to hold that difference to carry it together

but it might mean some really raw and vulnerable conversations it might mean compromise or creative solutions or maybe just being seen in your craving without shame

whichever it will be please know you are allowed to miss what you need even when you love what you have.

008 | this feral heart

i want to post about the wild things. about hunger and touch and need. about bodies and breath and bruised longing (and longing for bruises).

and i am afraid. i am afraid this will stain the place i am building.

there's probably quite a few things behind that fear - like, how as women we're taught to be clean and polite and free of sinful desires. how certain aspects of sensuality are frowned upon. how i, a queer woman, belong to a marginalized group either exploited or shunned for their sexuality. (think lesbian scenes in porn (with usually very traditionally feminine-presenting women who aren't even that interested in each other, but in pleasing the male that will sooner or later fuck them (i told you i can use “bad” words)) vs. homophobia or disgust (often with more butch-leaning individuals))

but i don't want to make this about feminism.

there's personal issues behind this fear as well. like being afraid of being rejected for my preferences. being afraid of telling the person i love most about what i truly need – because maybe it's too much, maybe she'll see me differently if she knows about the abyss of my hunger. the fear i overwhelm her, because i am aware that my drive is higher, and my desires wilder.

but.

i wanted to build a space for myself here. a place where i can be truly me.

and i come with these needs and fantasies and —

i need to write about it. i owe it to myself; i am allowed to exist whole, and i don't want to share only a half-tamed, sanitized version; the wildness and longing and hunger, they belong to the same heart and soul as everything else. i will not cut them off to make myself easier digestable.

there will be so many patches of wilderness on this blog, the sensual part of this garden can be avoided by anyone not ready to look at it – or seeked out if interested.

i am showing myself that there is no part of myself i need to hide; nothing is too messy or too raw or too much to deserve breath and space and light; my hunger will not ruin anything here - how could hunger ruin anything anyway, it's part of what keeps us alive.

#thisferalheart (it might not be clean, but it's real)

i use hashtags (and will update this page whenever i add a new one)

#poetry

• should be self-explanatory, although i'm not always sure what i write should really be called “poetry”

#fragments

• short poems, (unfinished) thoughts

#fortheghostsicarry [for the ghosts i carry]

• often paired with #poetry
• posts about things relating to past selves/views/experiences

#somestillbleed [some still bleed]

• always paired with #fortheghostsicarry
• is meant to make you aware there might be mentions of potentially triggering subjects
  • these may include but are not limited to mental health, especially depression, anxiety and ( c)ptsd; unhappy childhood; gaslighting, emotional abuse, emotional neglect (ties in with the childhood); identity loss (will be tied to the specific issue of finding out your social father isn't your biological father rather late (i was almost 30));

#whattheflowersknow [what the flowers know]

• things i am learning as i am rediscovering myself
• often but not always rather positive, pushing forward, hopeful (but not in a toxic positivity-way (i hope))
• sometimes paired with #fortheghostsicarry
  • then often about past behaviors/beliefs, and how i am un-learning them

#thisferalheart [this feral heart]

• you will find sensual topics here
  • possibly explicit, tread with caution
• for this reason, if overly explicit, it will be posted at the beginning of an entry, not paired with any other hashtags (the only exception to this is the post titled “this feral heart”)

#againsttherush [against the rush]

• reflections on fast-paced (internet) culture
• resisting the feeling to constantly have to create, produce, perform; resisting “content creation”
• trying to reclaim slowness, breath and truth