quiregrrl | A visit from the rhyming fairy

I'm not a poet. I'm really truly most definitely not a poet. But for some reason every now and then the rhyming fairy comes along and makes me write stuff that, well, rhymes. Like tonight.

inspired by a conversation last week with GET.

What I want

Tell me what you want she says
Between the tangling of our tongues
Tell me what you want she begs
Tracing patterns on my legs

I’m assuming, since you’re asking, that you really want to know
So fine, ok, no worries. I’ll tell you. Here we go:

World peas and corn for all, a slightly smaller nose
A house with rooms to wander through and one in which to fall
I want the bus to come on time, unless I’m running late
I want a boss who doesn’t feel like black ice under skates
I really want the ability to walk in 6 inch heels
And oh, while I’m at it, I want a boi who kneels
I want a motorbike, a fat hog painted pink
And when I take my shoes off, I want them not to stink
I want to write a book of smut (none of it in rhyme)
I want to know, since now you’ve asked, if you’re still having a good time
I want a plethora of custom drawn tattoos
And for more than rhyming reasons, I also want tutus
I want an antique armoire, filled with fetish wear
And when I’m masturbating, I want my cat not to stare
I want to be a kid again and recklessly climb a tree
I want a world where everyone is truly diverse and free
I want my rights to be equal nothing more and nothing less
I want a big queer wedding with lots of big queer guests
I want women to know they’re beautiful no matter what their size
I want that beauty to be easily seen, in everybody’s eyes
I want genuine respect for different points of view
And even if you don’t like my stance, I want respect from you
I want freedom of religion even though He’s not my God
I want sexual freedom too, even though some kinks are odd
I want children to grow up in a world that’s free of war
I want so very many things, all this and so much more.

But as for what I want when our clothes have all been shed?
What I really want when we’re writhing on the bed?
What I want most of all when I’m wet down to my knees?
Isn’t it obvious? Stop asking what I want and for pitys sake, fuck me please!