A Strange Hedonist

She darted in

between the

shadows,

tracing the

dark grey leaf

shapes on

the sidewalk.

A strange hedonist.

She ran her

hand across

the string lights

trimming the

underside of

the counter.

A strange type

of hedonist.

The type that

wears orange

garland trimmed

dresses.

Bathes in

bubbles nightly.

A hedonist that

most didn’t

understand.

Out of confusion

or maybe envy,

she could feel

a hatred from

some.

You tell her

to be herself

but what about

when that

it too much

for you?

A strange hedonist.

Taking pleasure

from being

herself, enjoying

the beauties

of life, and

strange thoughts

that flowed

through her head.

A strange

hedonist that

couldn’t help

but feeling

shamed?

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Bath time

Id like

your hands

to trace

the tracks

of my razor

up my legs,

and to be honest

thats what I

was thinking of

while I shaved

my legs.

And as I sunk

down into

the bubbles I

wondered if

you ever got

lost in

thoughts of

sensuality,

if that

was something

you even did?

I am Myself

Theres nothing

hotter

sexier

than someone

being themselves

the grin

the subtle

chuckle

gives their

face warmth.

The way they

choose to

get comfortable

legs sprawled

shoulders

relaxed

happy.

There is nothing

hotter

sexier

more beautiful

than someone

comfortable in

their own

skin.

I can’t stand your pretty words

Sometimes I

can’t stand

your pretty

words.

Ugh just

shut up

and tell me

how you

feel. Because

I am tired

of reading the

word moon

glistening

shards

tired of all the

fancy

words they

taught you

to use in

papers.

Because I don’t

really think

thats you,

or do you

just feel more

comfortable

hiding?