#femme poetry

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Source: The Exploding Frangipani ; Lesbian Writing From Australia and New Zealand -edited by Cathie Dunsford and Susan Hawthorne

[androgynealienfemme]

"I know what I am when I look at old pictures long, wavy hair, eyeliner, mascara demure and mysterious. I know what I am when I wander on my lunch hour to sample new fragrances and linger near lace lingerie. I know what I am when I paw through these old letters still warm with old passions held firmly in wide rubber bands. I know what I am when the sight of old white t-shirts and the smell of Old Space can still make me shiver and smile I know what I am in the dark when you fill me your hands and your mouth in the head of the heart of my center I know what I am." "Old femme", Madeline Davis, The Persistent Desire, (Edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)

[deepdarkbunnybrains]

in me, on you

19 feb 2024 || 10:53pm

you sit me down on the mattress, my legs parted, nothing left to the imagination. i recline, my backside on a pillow, my hips holding holy your communion.

the shimmer of god is the slick of a woman— you know this to be true. then why do you tease me so, when you know my cup overfloweth only for you?

perhaps that is exactly why.

my hands can never love myself the way yours do. they have never known skill like yours, and they will never learn. they don’t wish to.

lover, my hands cannot reach the iridescent rapture you pull from me.

my hands were made for other tasks: they were made to love you just the way your body takes them; with a soft touch, a grating scratch, a flattened stroke over the firm planes of your back.

yes— my fingertips were built to kiss your nape, to lick wisps of hair away from your face, to divine the warmth from you that you so adamantly hide from the world.

yet still you sit back and watch me remember why i prefer your fingers over mine; it is a gentle cruelty i cherish, one that makes me sparkle for you all over again. because then, when you give in, your steady fingers working me to depths unknown, that’s when it becomes transcendent.

you are in me as i am in you; bleeding soul, beating heart, breath of yours that i hold in lungs of mine.

-a.r. // bunnybrains

[murderonthedullexpress]

“Trapped”

Stone Butch Blues - Leslie Feinberg

@/lilboyblueish on Instagram

Poem by Keaton St. James (@boykeats)

I/Me/Myself - Will Wood

We Both Laughed In Pleasure by Lou Sullivan

cis people asking cis questions by Silas Denver Melvin (@sweatermuppet)

Tomboy Survival Guide by Ivan Coyote

[la-esthete]

Original Sin (2001)

[illustratus]

La Belle Dame sans Merci by Paul Julien Meylan

[iphianasssa]

Masahisa Fukase

[fixing-bad-posts]

[A tweet edited whiteout poetry style with a geometric pattern in shades of pink, resulting in the following text]

—

If you’re a trans woman and refer to yourself as “trans femme”, or some variation of that, please understand that is swag.

Submitted by @autisticfordprefect

[queen-of-disasters-stuff]

[dontforgetaboutgeorgie]

a small excerpt from my most recent love story. a tender take on butch4femme love

[maniccherrygirl]

[goth-oat-milk]

[0scarwilde]

it is okay to still feel hurt, even if you thought you were over it.

[deepdarkbunnybrains]

the boulder—the stone. 18 feb 2024 || 11:57pm

to be vulnerable for you; that is my greatest pleasure, a treasure that i keep hidden in the delicate folds of me.

it is an exploration you take with enormous reverence.

to plunge into the softest, wettest parts of me, you think that i must trust you with the very cradle of my heart— with mine own ribs— with mine own veins. and i do. i do.

darling— you must know that i open my heart and my thighs to you as the shelter from your rage and your storm and your sorrow. all the pain and suffering, all your rejections and subjections—

their hardness is pressure for a pearl when you let it sit between us, let it wash away from your love-lined skin and slide it into me, where i take it and turn it into something you’ll want to embrace.

blood-dark love— heart of my heart— my body has known yours in every life, in every woman who knows the waltz we dance. we are lock and key. i am the only love for you; you are all that slides in place for me.

-a.r. // bunnybrains

[kinakoflour]

Bonni Barringer.  “When butches cry.” The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader, edited by Joan Nestle, 1992, p. 109.

[cobwebgf]

—save me, butch savior, niyah alashia