Anxieties and Sexualities

Anxiety and me

Go hand in hand with my sexuality and me

I am not straight 

And I am not gay

I am somewhere in the in-between

The term ‘bisexual’ 

Was first culled in 1892

And even now few

Do not even seem to grasp

The idea

The concept

The attraction 

To more than one gender

Does not mean 

Living for threesomes

And no 

I am not confused 

Although 

I wish I could just choose

One or the other

Homo 

Hetero

Both sexualities see me

As a foreign disease

Lesbians do not want a girl

Who last week 

Was choking on dick

Males like to think

I need to be fixed

In case the chance

Comes around where I might decide

Too leave his ass 

For a chick

No wonder it seems 

That dating 

Is one of my arch nemesis 

No one understands that Bi-girl 

Slut, you mean?

Lips curl to that word

In case you did not know

They are synonyms in this world

 

Trust me,

I really wish I could choose

That is not the truth

I cannot identify as a gay woman

When I remember 

Fawning over 

His hand

Inching closer on my thighs 

His fingers tapping my back side

Drumming his tips on my spine

Finding a tune on each individual disc 

Similar to piano keys 

Transfixed on

Pressing the black keys

Releasing a sharp

Gasp!

Her kiss 

A spoonful of honey

Slowly pouring into me

Cascading syrups 

Of sweetness 

Still revealing a sting

With the flick of a tongue

Completely

Inevitably

Devoted to her moans

Her sighs

The lullabies 

Of tugging lace

Lingerie 

Fall to the floor

Adoration of this 

Sudden

ABOMINATION

No!

Most of the population

Demands that I find pleasure

In one of two scenarios

Disclosing the factor

I have been treaded with 

Tire marks 

Steps of caution   

I cannot be trusted 

Because my kind 

Is know for cheating

And leaving 

Jumping through every flaming hoop

You have asked

Making sure I have been with

Equal amounts of

Both men and women

The more I try

To balance the scale

Even out the number

The more evidence 

Lines up to find me

Guilty of greed

My sensuality 

Is not yours to feed

Upon as I explain 

Who I have been with

You are 

Gathering up a jury 

A judge to see

If whether or not

I need to stick with 

Vaginas or pensises

I can make up 

As many similes as I want

The overall message is

Being bisexual kinda sucks

 

I am not a tramp

Or trampled with perplexity 

I know my sexuality 

Both anatomy is appealing to me

Whether it be one 

More so than the other

That does not decipher 

My lust or desire

Permanently  

 

Butterflies 

Infatuation 

Swept off my feet

Whatever you call it

I have felt something for

Both males and females

Humanity simultaneously agrees

The existence of love

Cannot be a child fable

My orientation

Is not factitious  

Because,

I know what love is

Blessed with the capability 

Of knowing 

Marrying

Potentially 

Anyone 

A gift that 

Should not be taken 

For granted 

With open arms 

Love bounds 

No boundaries

It will happen slowly

Creeping ivy

Until one day

I will wake up 

Realizing 

it has ensnared me

Tightly

I would not have it

Any other way

This poem is about: 
Me

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