I'm Not Crying, It's Just So Dusty In Here😭#this Might Be One Of The Most Beautiful Things I've Ever

"And I don't even care if it's just a summer fling" (lies) "if it's all experimental and you go back to safer things" (more lies) "but i swore hand were made for fighting, i swore eyes were made to cry, but you're the first person that I've seen who's proven that might be a lieeeee" ( truth) "so don't leave me hanging" (a threat)

Cutting off the tongue seems like the practical solution

I DO MY BEST ON THE MARGINS,

when the perils of yearning is more than building a pyre

for the body, when cutting off the tongue to prevent it from

speaking your name over & over again like a hymn becomes

a practical solution. I so want to be acquainted with January

in a way that doesn’t swell my wounds of you. I wake with

carnations swaying in the mouth, a good use for the sweetness

that stems from your name—one day, you’ll hear your name

from the mouth of a lover, and it will all click, how everything

was in praise of you.

Your bones carry the past and the future. Your soul is beyond time. Knowledge and love exist beyond time. If you feel heavy it is because you are carrying generations of memories and endless possibilities.

Someday your hands will be old and wrinkled, the skin spotted and bunching over your knuckles. And a child will watch you make something. It's a simple task, you'll have done it a thousand times before. But to that child, the smooth, confident way your hands move will seem like impossible magic. You have to keep living.

🔞

In the late afternoon, I lie on my bed.

The sunglow seeps through spaces in the blinds and warms my soft brown skin. I trace the outline of my hip with my forefinger, admiring my new panties. They're hemmed with delicate lace, and there's a little pink rosebud made of tightly coiled ribbon stitched to the center of the waistband, directly beneath my n@vel. It makes me feel like a sweet little candy all wrapped up nicely. An image of my boyfriend's reaction to a picture of me like this popping up on his phone flashes through my mind. Heat rises to my face and I push my phone a little further away from myself on the bed. Of course I can't send him a picture of me like this! What will he say? What if he barely responds at all! I'd be mortified. But what if he likes it?... In my mind, I see him at the end of my bed, parting my legs to lie on top of me. His hand traveling from my collarbones all the way down my body and - oh, you know where. I try not to think of that for too long. The reason I laid down here was to take a simple nap before returning to finish my housework. It's time for my Sunday reset, after all. But I can already feel a bit of pressure building between my thighs.

I hop off the bed to look out the window at the stillness of the neighborhood. I can see the driveway and the house across the street which has been adorned with myriad flowers by the elderly couple that lives there. I can't help but imagine my boyfriend's car in the driveway. Imagine him looking through the window and seeing me, giving me a shy smile as I shimmy my hips playfully. I open the window to let in a little bit of fresh air, in hopes of distracting myself. The scent of spring with all its youthful exhilaration wafts in.

I inhale deeply and stretch upwards with the warm sun beaming down on my face. The cool breeze slips up my cropped, very baggy white camisole, and kisses my n¡pples. In response, they harden to peaks. I immediately cup my hands over my bre@sts, worried that someone might glance at my window and see me like that. My bre@sts are a bit too big to fit in my hands. E cups that sway with every step, so I can never go braless without garnering a lot of attention. My n¡pples are hypersensitive, with @reolas that dimple at the slightest touch. Any chance of distracting myself from the growing heat between my thighs vanished with the breeze coming through my window when I cupped my tits. My nap time fantasies made me even more sensitive to the warm touch. A jolt of pleasure shot through my chest and melted into a drop of soothing ecstasy.

"There goes nap time" I giggle to myself.

My hands begin to massage my chest in large circles. Cupping my bre@sts and fondling them gently. Now my n¡ps are even more pronounced, and when I glance down I can see them jutting out through the thin fabric of my camisole.

I give them a teasing flick. A breathy m0an escapes my lips. Warmth drips onto my panties from that simple touch.

So I begin to flick my n¡pples, one after the other in quick succession. Bliss swirls my chest. I just want more. A gentle pinch and a tug gives me a twing of pain mingled with the pleasure, causing my knees to buckle under me.

I quickly moved to the bed and lied down on my back, rubbing my @reolas in soothing strokes. Every now and then I encircled one of the hardened peaks in between my thumb and forefinger, eliciting a sound of excitement to escape me.

I bend my knees upward and begin to squirm as I moved my fingertips faster.

I tease the waistband of my panties with one hand while the other brushes across my entire chest. My chest is heaving up and down, my tummy shivers with every light touch.

My fantasies swirl out of control now. I can't help but wonder what it would be like if I were seen. A moment ago the idea frightened me. But now, entangled in the thrall of my ar0usal, I found it so exciting. I know everyone in the neighborhood is probably off at work. So I felt safe enough, during these quiet hours, to slowly part my legs in front of the window. I reach down to feel myself, and my fingers are met with a slick, warm, puddle seeping through my pretty little panties. I wonder if it could be seen from outside, just how wet I am.

Sliding my fingers up and down my slit is enough to make me shiver with ecstasy. My hips buck when I pass over my cl¡t with featherlight touches. The lack of pressure is torment, but I enjoy holding off my own release. My back arches away from my mattress as my pvssy throbs with need. I can feel myself soaking through my panties as I deny myself sweet release for a little longer. My mind has gone to another place now. I am floating in the middle of space, surrounded by my own pleasure sounds.

That's when it happens.

I hear a voice calling my name. The single word tumbled out, a startled, urgent, breathless sound. I recognize the voice immediately. In a panic, I rip my blanket off my bed and wrap it around my half naked body, sitting up to face my boyfriend, staring at me through the open window, jaw slacked, obviously shaken.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I didn't - I didn't mean - to - to watch. I swear." He stammers.

I am quivering from the anxiety and hypersensitivity reverberating through my entire body, and absolutely stupefied into silence.

"I wanted to surprise you, because you said today - today was a boring day, so I tried to knock and you didn't hear me, and then I heard some - some sounds. So I - I came to investigate." He shifts his weight uncomfortably, and starts to move away from the window. "I'm so sorry. I'll come back another time. I really didn't mean -"

"Wait no, no." I interrupt him. He freezes in place. I take a deep breath, summoning my courage. "I... liked it."

"What?" The word comes out soft and weak. I can see redness spreading across the bridge of his nose.

His blush only makes me want him more.

"I liked... that you saw me." I tell him.

I try to steady my quavering legs as I stand up to raise the window higher, with the blanket clutched around my neck, falling over my shoulders, providing minimal coverage.

My heart is pounding in my ears.

We are so close now, with only glass between us. I breathe as slowly as possible. My voice is barely above a whisper.

"Do you want to come in?"

BE THE PERSON YOU WANT TO BE NOW.

Wear the clothes. Make the moves. Accept the responsibility.

Some people will say, "but I'm just a nobody, it doesn't matter what i do."

Yes it does.

History has its eyes on us all.

We all have the power to influence others with the way we live and the choices we make. To say that you don't matter is to lie to yourself and live in a delusion. It's not simply unkind or untrue.

If you want to have an empire,

BE AN EMPRESS.

My heart is torn in several directions. The stitches which held me together once before

U n r a v e l.

I dance with the girl I was,

to find the answers.

If my ribs crack from the pain, nature will grow me back.

I remember Anne Shirley said something like 'Why does everyone have to grow up, and get married, and change?!'

But I say, let them. Let the caterpillars become butterflies. Let the owlets spread their wings.

I was so scared of that feeling growing up. I was literally terrified of change.

But now the sky opens up before me and says "fly!"

And who am I to disobey her?

I want to be a kitten on someone's lap and keep them immobilized for hours.

That is all.

As you were, peasant. *shoos you away*

I want an old house with vines growing up the walls, like long hair that carries many old secrets. I want them to curve around the windows and wave hello to me inside as they blow softly in the wind.