I ask myself a lot of questions.
Deep ones—not the kind that only scratch the surface. I crave the taboo kind of questions and answers.
I desire to understand and realize what dwells within me: emotionally, sexually, and overall, spiritually. I desire to get to know all the layers that make me who I am. I’ve been carefully exploring the parts of my sexuality that exist due to past trauma.
I ask the kind of questions that most of us are afraid to ask, to be with, or dig into—to find the real, raw truth.
Because my sexuality has been—and still is—my greatest wound due to childhood trauma and the women in my family, I could never really surrender to sex.
I’ve never really surrendered to pleasure.
On rare occasions, when I would touch myself alone, it would feel saddening and frustrating.
Exposing my body to pole dancing, however, has opened it entirely; I feel my sexual energy clearly now.
My sexual energy is my life force. As I investigate my sexual desires, how my sexual fantasies show up, what images arise in my mind, what I like or don’t, what fantasies turn me on, and what scares me, I am learning to use my sexual energy to transform my life.
Should I think about or imagine the forbidden fruit, or not?
What are my shadows regarding sexuality and sensuality?
I used to go to porn to find some answers; now I find it completely fake—full of big, fat bullsh*t. Porn doesn’t inspire me, and it doesn’t represent the kind of passionate sex I desire and fantasize about now. Rarely, do erotic stories inspire me.
My internal landscape regarding my sexuality has shifted.
I feel and crave passion; magical touches awaken the magic and sex spells from the depths of my soul.
I crave eyes that f*ck mine while our bodies are intertwined in deep synchronization.
It’s hard, sometimes, to tell the fine line between freeing my sexuality and falling prey to the sexual shadows that lurk beneath my desires and fantasies.
I’m on the path to discover the woman in me who is different from what I originally thought.
Through pondering my sexuality, I was inspired to write this poem. I hope it inspires you in your delicate path of sexuality:
I am moving between layers,
leaving behind the ‘nice girl’ identification tag
for the real girl,
or rather, the real and authentic woman
that I am becoming.
The complex, hurricane-like spirit
that can be as nourishing as shadows
and dark as she can be.
The woman within me
is abandoning all the ‘nice guys’
who cannot be real,
the half men,
who cannot be the men they are meant to be.
Because I crave:
a soul-deep f*ck
the kind touch of fingertips
that is otherworldly
and runs through my skin
as velvet feathers,
soft and wild,
light and dark—unknown.
Shoveling the remains
of the girl I used to be,
for the woman I must become.
She is not who I thought she would be.
She is black,
hidden behind the veil of fear,
ready to slay the old me
with her bloody mouth,
hunger of mystery,
that feel like wet rain,
on a summer day.