sway together

October 22, 2019

Kiss me with rain on your eyelashes,
come on, let us sway together,
under the trees, and to hell with thunder.

Edwin Morgan
Valentine Weather

Kiss

May 26, 2019

I kissed her. She smelled of beer and smoke and April rain.

Audre Lorde
Zami: A New Spelling of my Name

merge into one

March 17, 2019

You look at me, from close up you look at me, closer and closer and then we play Cyclops, we look closer and closer at one another and our eyes get larger, they come closer, they merge into one and the two Cyclops’s look at each other, blending as they breathe, our mouths touch and struggle in gentle warmth, biting each other with their lips, barely holding their tongues on their teeth, playing in corners where a heavy air comes and goes with an old perfume and a silence. Then my hands go to sink into your hair, to cherish slowly the depth of your hair while we kiss as if our mouths were filled with flowers or with fish,  with lively movements and dark fragrance. And if we bite each other the pain is sweet, and if we smother each other in a brief and terrible sucking in together of our breaths, that momentary death is beautiful. And there is but one saliva and one flavour of ripe fruit, and I feel you tremble against me like a moon on the water.

Julio Cortázar
Hopscotch

Death itself

January 26, 2019

And it was Death itself who stood behind me, with his arms wrapped around me as tight as iron bands, and his lipless mouth kissing my neck as if in love. But as well as the horror, I felt a strange longing.

Margaret Atwood
Alias Grace

Intimacy

January 24, 2019

The kind of intimate that can make you cum just by kissing…The kind that leaves your pussy throbbing and makes you think that if your partner touched your pussy – you’d crumble at their very touch…

Oko Ninjah
confessions from my amateur heart

Cherry Pie Daydreams

January 15, 2019

In this dream, we are baking cherry pies.
We are baking cherry pies in the middle of a sunlit kitchen and leaving them to cool on the windowsill.
I want to say that there is sunshine spilling everywhere.
I want to say that it’s falling out of the gaps between your teeth because it probably is.
How could it not be?
In this dream I put my mouth on your mouth and try to catch all of that happiness with my tongue,
we play soft music that sounds like sighing
and I breathe like a paper bird rustling
against your tongue.
Did I say that there is a meadow in my stomach?
Did I tell you that you were every flower inside of it?
I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. You knew,
how could you not?
In this dream, you are probably licking my fingertips clean,
and we are dripping cherry jam on the counters.
In this dream we are dancing barefoot on a wooden floor,
tangled so far inside of each other like knitting string.
I am kissing your shoulders
and paying special attention to the dusk setting in your hollows.
I am sticking my fingers in your belly button,
and your ears and right there, where you’re all ribs.
In this dream, we are belly full,
I’ll kiss your knees and I’ll stroke your hips,
I’ll comb your hair.
In this dream, we sit side by side and hold hands
and knock our bodies like bowling pins.
In this dream I’ll feed you cherry pie with my fingers,
you’ll kiss me with your mouth wide open,
we’ll taste that sweetness everywhere,
how could we not?

Azra Tabassum

ON THE QUEER GIRL FANTASY

December 4, 2018

I say I love women & men’s faces crack open
like a jawless throat to swallow me

whole. They say, that’s hot. They’re thinking
sultry eyes, pay-for-more-action, queer

cured by cock. Body as sport. Eyes on everyone
but each other: a spectacle of choice.

Isn’t real unless a man is done proving he can
make a door out of an unopened envelope.

Question: if a girl kisses another girl with
no witness, does that revelation make a sound?

The catch in throat, trembling wrists, terror
blooming into wreathfuls of ribs, wearing

the future around her neck like a noose
— or the bullet caged behind front teeth

when gutted with a pistol in the mouth,
taught a woman’s place is with a cock

-ed gun in the belly if it won’t fire between
her thighs. The difference is when

the bleeding starts. Splintering drowned by
on-screen applause or dark-alley backhand.

I love women. I mean in the way that one
chooses her own murder over men.

Body softened with gasoline & ash. To be
unearthed by hands searching for rain

& crawl out of that grave into the story where
there’s no one else. Just her smile

set on bend of my skull, a coronet. Her eyelashes
the curve of two wings in flight.

I will always love her like walking into fire.
She will always be the kind of pretty so sharp

it feels like loving a knife.

Natalie Wee

her mouth shone red

November 4, 2018

Her mouth was so inviting, so swollen, as if for kissing…Her dark hair was all over the pillow, a dark pillow, all around her. Even in the candlelight her mouth shone red, and it was half open like a flame.

Anaïs Nin
Life in Provincetown

erupts like volcanoes

September 15, 2018

volcanic orgasm

Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don’t blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being in love, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.

Louis de Bernières
Captain Corelli’s Mandolin

teasing tongues

May 20, 2018

good friends playing nicely

The first time I had sex with a woman, just her and I, I marvelled at the pace. Sex with men always felt pressing, driven by an intensity that climbed quickly. Sometimes I liked that energy, it made me feel wanted, desired. The rush was fun, like tearing open a present. Other times I felt like we skipped over the good parts, like I could have pressed against him while he kissed my neck for hours. Sometimes I felt like I was trying to catch up, I was too young and inexperienced to say “Slow down.”

The first time I had sex with a woman, and it was just her and I, we kissed for hours. Literally hours. Slow, tender, swollen-lips, hands in our hair, teasing tongues, moans and soft sounds, our hips pressing together, in no hurry but never staying still. By the time I pressed my hand between her legs her panties were soaked right through. That little wet spot made fireworks in my head, my clit throbbed. This was divine. I didn’t pull her cotton underwear aside until she was already close to orgasm, just from my fingertips tracing over the fabric, and her eager grinding against my palm.

After she came we slowed down but never stopped touching each other until she’d had her second, third and fourth. There’s a difference between “I came” and “I’m satiated”. Fucking someone who understood that made sex an entirely new thing. We fucked until we were finished, exhausted and spent. I finally felt satisfied.

The next time a man touched me all I could feel was the energy propelled by his hard-on. The rush that rush-of-blood to his cock put him in. I felt like I wasn’t there.

Heart
Reflections
Queer Enough, 2018