I’m worth more than a few licks between my legs. More than your legs caressing a sacred place I sometimes call home. You do it so well in making me believe I’m the true source of what you need, even though I know deep down I’m really not what you want or need. Love me, I’m a touch me please. Not just your side piece. I like Reeces, but that doesn’t mean take all my pieces until I have nothing
left for me. Yes I’m a masc, but I don’t mask who I am. For I am and will always be a woman. Underneath these clothes are vulnerability, desire, needs that you refuse to see. Stop intentionally making my femininity irrelevant. You’re not the only one who wants to be bent. You see, that toxic masculinity has your mind so skewed it’s almost impossible to fix. I refuse to try and try again only to learn over and over again, my love is simply not enough to carry the both of us. I want things that don’t qualify as a “true masc woman”, but you withhold things from me simply because you choose to see me as a placeholder. I’m not your filler man until you get who you really want. I’m not a fantasy. I’m reality. Hold me, dominate, reciprocate. Keep going until I see the heavenly gates. A simple question would’ve provided the answers. I keep it real simple. Loving me is not a game. It’s a privilege.