Toots

The more poetic gay thoughts

[realromantics]

HELLO???? hi.

(this is the main blog, if you want more unhinged gay- go to my unrealromantic side blog)

call me toots

24 • she/they

men dni. minors dni. i am so serious. the spray bottle remains loaded.

i am deeply, terminally infected with poetry brain rot

i’m talking yearning so intense it should be studied.

presentation varies depending on the day, the vibe, the energy, and how much sleep i’ve had

androgynous sometimes, femme sometimes, a mystery to all (including me)

this blog will contain:

poetry, fragments, romantic devastation, soft disasters, dramatic nonsense,

things written too late at night and felt too deeply

watch as i lose sanity elegantly.

enter at your own risk.

[realromantics]

I asked for space,

not because I wanted distance,

but because every word I said kept landing somewhere

where you couldn’t hear it.

I said I’m hurting

And it felt like dropping glass on the floor

while you stood in the next room

never hearing it

break.

And it's a different kind of pain to

feel your voice hit the same wall again,

and again.

And again.

But you say beautiful things,

you always have.

Your apologies sound careful,

like letters written in perfect handwriting.

And I want to believe them.

God, I want to.

I want the words to mean that something inside you

is shifting.

Growing.

Learning how to hold me instead of

letting me fall through the spaces you leave.

But there’s a quiet fear sitting beside my hope.

What if they’re just, pretty sentences?

What if they sit on the surface like paint on a wall

bright and convincing

but nothing underneath them ever changes?

I asked for space because love shouldn’t feel like,

speaking through a locked door.

Because being unheard slowly teaches your heart to

shrink its voice.

And I don’t want to become someone small

inside a love that once felt so big.

Still,

this space scares me.

Because space can stretch.

It can pull farther and farther apart

until it stops being space and starts being an ending.

And I am terrified that this distance might quietly turn into goodbye.

That I will still be here holding all this love

heavy

and warm

and aching

while you realize

you can set it down

and walk away without it.

And I’ll be left

carrying both of our pieces in my hands

wondering if your words were ever meant

to stay.

[realromantics]

The room hums softly, though nothing makes a sound. Air folds in on itself, too thick to breathe, too fragile to move through. Something inside the chest begins to crackle like ice thawing too fast under a heat that isn’t real.

The walls tilt, not outward, but inward, like they’re curious what it feels like to crush. Fingers tremble without permission.

They don’t know if they want to grab or release. The heart stutters, an uneven drummer trapped beneath glass, each beat a question that doesn’t want its answer.

Thoughts scatter like startled birds, colliding midair, leaving feathers that taste like metal. The world grows both distant and too close, faces and memories overlapping until they blur into a color that doesn’t exist.

Inside, a mirror begins to shatter, but slowly, politely. Every shard catches a reflection that looks the same but feels wrong. The throat tightens as if it’s swallowing smoke. The body tries to run without moving. The body tries to stay without staying.

And then the tide turns, not out, but inward, pulling everything into a single, trembling point behind the ribs. It’s quiet there. Too quiet.

Somewhere beneath the noise that doesn’t exist, something whispers, "I'm still there". But it sounds so far away, like it’s speaking through water.

[realromantics]

I want her to ache for me, unending,

to let the world know her marrow is mine.

I need her to cast aside every whispering hand,

every hopeful gaze, every rival thought,

until devotion is the only crown she wears.

I want her to kneel in the open, unashamed,

lips trembling prayers against my shadow,

showing the crowd her chains are chosen,

her hunger sharpened only on my name.

I need her to bare her heart like a wound,

bleeding adoration at my feet.

I want her eyes

burning,

endless

to follow me like a hound starved of mercy,

to swallow me whole in their longing.

I need her breath to falter at my touch,

to wither without my presence near,

to bow to the ruin I make of her.

I want her love twisted and holy,

a worship carved into her bones,

her hands restless until they serve.

I need her to crave my cruelty

as much as my kiss,

to find her salvation only in surrender.

And when the world dares to question,

I want her to smile that quiet, fevered smile,

so they know

she belongs,

always,

to me.

[realromantics]

I am a glass of water trembling on the edge

clear, fragile, quivering

one touch, and I'll spill into a flood

Love me, I beg

but the moment you do

my chest caves with terror

you will leave, you will leave, you will leave

So I cling

arms tangled like roots in a storm

or I scorch

words slicing

fire meant to burn away the ache of being left behind

Inside me

there are a thousand mirrors

each reflecting a stranger

I try to gather them

but the pieces keep cutting my hands

One moment I am radiant

skin lit with galaxies

eyes wide enough to swallow the sun

The next I am a shadow

emptiness ringing louder than breath

Do not mistake this chaos for lack of love

It is love

raw and unfiltered

too much for my own body to contain

And though I teeter at the edge of breaking

know this

in every fracture

in every wound

I am still reaching

for the shape of wholeness

[realromantics]

I press my lips shut

until they tremble,

swallowing the words that claw up my throat

the ones that would tell you

to pin me down,

to make me take it,

to fuck me until I can’t remember

my own name.

My body begs without sound

hips shifting, thighs aching,

skin fever hot under your gaze

but my pride is a steel collar,

locked tight.

I can’t let you hear me plead,

can’t give you the victory

of knowing just how badly

I want your fingers

deep, relentless,

your mouth pulling me apart

until I’m nothing but sweat and whimpers.

So I stay silent,

shaking,

every breath a prayer

you’ll take what I can’t ask for.

[realromantics]

You’re still trembling when I pull you against me,

skin damp,

breath warm on my neck.

I let my fingers wander

not to take,

but to savor

tracing the sweat glossed skin of your back,

the heat still pulsing between your thighs.

My lips find your shoulder,

slow, open kisses

that make you sigh instead of moan.

Every stroke is unhurried,

but my hands can’t stop exploring,

committing every inch to memory.

You press into me,

soft, needy,

and I hold you there,

keeping you wrapped in the afterglow

until the wanting starts again.

[realromantics]

Your wrists fit perfectly in my hands,

but I want more

all of you,

every frantic sound you make.

I pin you down,

thrusting hard, then harder,

chasing the heat like I’ll starve without it.

Your body arches,

and I slam into that curve,

dragging another cry from your throat.

I bite your shoulder,

tasting the salt of your skin,

driving deeper, faster

greedy for the way you break under me,

greedy enough to take you again

before you’ve even caught your breath.

[realromantics]

You bow your head before grace

and I,

who never learned the prayers,

find holiness in the way your hand

finds mine.

Your faith is a river,

steady, deep,

and though I never step into its current,

I stand at the bank,

watching the light bend

over your shoulders like a blessing.

You speak of heaven

I don’t know if I believe in it,

but when you look at me,

it feels like you’ve already

found your proof.

If God made you,

then maybe

I’ve been worshiping all along.

[realromantics]

I need you right now

no waiting, no holding back.

I’m desperate to burn into your skin,

to taste you hard and loud,

to make you mine until we’re shaking.

My hands won’t stop until you’re trembling,

my lips won’t quit until you scream.

I’m greedy for your fire,

hungry for your sweat,

starving to drown in every inch of you.

Don’t slow down

take me like I’m your last fix.

[realromantics]

Your gaze drips over me

like honey spilling slow,

and I arch into it

hungry, unashamed, yours.

I am a vessel for your affection,

built to hold the ache

you press into my skin,

until it overflows in breathless gasps.

Your fingers trace constellations

down my thighs,

mapping every place

you plan to make a star burn.

[realromantics]

Their laugh is a low river,

slow and steady in my chest.

They wear confidence like a worn leather jacket,

the kind you take off less and less

Their hands

calloused but careful

carry the weight of the world

yet still hold me gently.

And I,

soft as I am,

am learning that love can be both

a safe harbor

and a storm.

[realromantics]

You make masculinity look holy.

Not the kind that postures

but the kind that listens

and wears softness like a choice.

You look like you protect

but you never possess.

You lead without pulling.

You hold the door

like it’s a metaphor.

[realromantics]

Your Name in My Mouth

I say your name

like prayer

like dare

like it might turn into a kiss

if I hold it long enough.

[realromantics]

You touch me like you’re learning

not just where but who

Your lips press questions into my skin

and I answer in sighs and tilt

The room forgets its edges

as we blur into each other

slow and certain

like tides that know they’ll return

You take me in like a secret

I’ve been waiting to be

And when we’re quiet

it’s only because

we’ve said

everything

[realromantics]

Hazels

Your eyes are

the same kind of chaos as mine

but gentler

like warm forest moss

instead of thunder.

They change, too.

When you laugh,

I swear I see sunlight.

[realromantics]

You walk like thunder knows your name

not loud,

but with that HushBeforeItHits energy

that makes me

hold my breath.

And gods, I would let you

strike me

just to say you’ve touched me.