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people get mad
at me
cuz i call sex
art.
and cuz i talk about it
and write about it.
i don’t care.
because when a body
is tangled in mine
it is more than just
the animalistic hunger
in me
that is satiated.
all day
i fight the world
but when there are hands
holding me down
i can let the world
take over
and rock to its
rythm.
all night i feel
hollow
because my wild eyes
never shut
searching
for something i will never
find
but when my ears
hear another heartbeat
i can slowly
drift to sleep
and dream.
tell me it’s not art.
i’ll hold you
til you see it.
About the Creator
Sara
Don’t look for love.
Be love.
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Comments (1)
Oh wow, I never saw sex as art. This is a very different perspective. Loved your poem!