Oh how I have missed this
It has been 28 days since I last kissed a girl. Before that, it was August of 2015. What have I been missing? Soft cheeks, mouths that don’t completely overpower mine, the sound of gentle breaths gasping, smiles in the dark, whispering desires. Oh how I have missed this. Not openly and often, only in quiet moments when I let myself remember. I have tasted gold, remembered the flavor of flowers, my palette is spoiled for all else. I want the whole plant: the hips, the petals, the stamen, the nectar. I want the moonbeams. I want all the sweetness.
Sexuality is so fluid and shifting, so unpredictable, no matter how much we may try to redirect the flow of water. It moves in its own path. My love of cis-men is a babbling brook that I can dip my toes in when I want to, or even fully immerse myself in if I lean far enough. My love of women and queer folk is a wide rushing river that sweeps me away.
I am seeking a safe bank from which to dive. back. in.