Content warning
This story may contain sensitive material or discuss topics that some readers may find distressing. Reader discretion is advised. The views and opinions expressed in this story are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Vocal.
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.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments (1)
Oh wow, I never saw sex as art. This is a very different perspective. Loved your poem!