Not Really A Poem: thoughts while laying on a playground

My
perfect
partner

would carry
hand sanitizer,

so that
we can
do handstuff
-everywhere

[and I
wouldn’t
feel anxious
about
germs]

they would
lay around
with me
on
sunny days;

talking
with me
about
“what ifs”;

hypothogizing
[that’s not
a word]
disaster
and
superfulous
scenerios.

they would
be a switch
[like me]

so I don’t
feel pressured
to succumb
to one
sexual nature
foreign
to me

[only
for them]
to my
mentally-boxed
detriment.

they would
have their
hobbies,
and I’d
have mine,

give me
space.

[unless
I feel
particularly
affectionate,
some days]

we’d drink,

but they
would remind
me I want
to care about
my body,

when I can’t
find it
in myself
to remember.

they would
keep me
on my toes,

and fuck me
in windows.

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