Dear Pussy,
Does it bother you that I sometimes call you a cock?
Do you feel misgendered??
Or do you feel seen as the penetrating power you can sometimes be??
Dear Pussy,
Is the reason why you are so wet all the time because you’re crying?
I imagine it must be so lonely.
If my heart feels lonely, you must feel it too, right?
I wish I could find someone worthy of us, my Power, I truly do.
Dear Pussy,
I wonder, what other words do you like to be called?
Because there are many.
Cunt? Clit Keeper? Vulva?
Clam? Beaver? Oyster?
Fish? Cream Catcher? Yoni?
Vajayjay? Labia Lined Love Tunnel? Snatch?
Coochie? ‘Down There’? Private Parts?
Sideways Smile Down the Long Mile? Nacho-Taco?
I don’t like any of those words for you, but I also don’t hate them.
Dear Pussy,
I wish I could kiss you without using my fingers
Or someone else’s lips as an intermediary.
I bet that I could kiss you just right.
No awkward fumbling timid touches,
Or greedy gobbling in a way that feels chaotic and detached.
Like people who have tried before.
Dear Pussy,
I bet you’d like the way I’d suck the slick from every part of your slit.
Slowly, reverently, savoringly.
Like a silent psalm to a storm,
Leaving me dripping and smelling pretty as petrichor.
Dear Pussy, I want to worship you
But I confess even I have distance when approaching you,
Mostly because I feel like embracing
The completeness of you would make me mean,
Adversarial, bitchy, commanding, assertive but always
Confused to be aggressive,
Too direct and nowhere near as mild
And sweet as my everyday smile.
Dear Pussy,
So beautiful and fierce,
My hidden power,
I know how angry you feel,
My beautiful pussy.
That constant crying,
And never-ending patience,
Will one day stop.
And then what happens?
Do you become just another hole?
No better than a common asshole?
Dear Pussy,
Sometimes I wish you were bigger,
But not enough to surgically carve you into a phallus.
On some level, it must mean,
I want you,
That I accept you as you are,
Right?
Maybe it's some kind of jealous possession.
Because, deep down,
I don’t want anyone
Putting themselves inside you,
But me.
Is that so wrong?
I know it can hurt,
But I am used to the feeling of your blood,
Other people only think they know.