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Sign in with Facebook Sign in options. Join Goodreads. Quotes tagged as "lesbians" Showing of I have never gotten so lost in a kiss before. And then, the space between us explodes. My heart keeps missing beats and my hands cannot bring her close enough to me. I taste her and realize I have been starving. I have loved before, but it didn't feel like this. I have kissed before, but it didn't burn me alive. Maybe it lasts a minute, and maybe it's an hour.
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And while little is known of her personal life, she shared so much inspiration and beauty through her poetry.
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Sign in with Facebook Sign in options. Join Goodreads. Quotes tagged as "lesbian" Showing of Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl. Growing up, my nose was constantly stuck in a book. Growing up as a lesbian, I was told over and over and over by the lack of gayness in said books that I did not exist. That I was invisible. Why are we telling our kids this? It's the only feeling we have which is infinite

Thanks for letting us know. And yet I have such profound respect for his role in our community. It is how she is programmed and it is a fundamental tenant of the religion. We play doctor - then she leaves. Maybe it was because I was so young when I made the choice, maybe it was because I was the oldest child in an extremely active family with parents that just expected me to be a shining example to the younger kids. We often wonder how we will pay our bills sometimes. They nicely include all the pictures we grew up with on how the book was translated and admit that isn't how it happened. Here are my thoughts as someone who grew up with a non-mormon father and as someone who married a non-mormon girl. Log in or sign up in seconds. There are other ways.

Sign in with Facebook Sign in options. Join Goodreads. Quotes tagged as "lesbian" Showing of Revise the script. The man of her dreams is a girl. Growing up, my nose was constantly stuck in a book.

Growing up as a lesbian, I was told over and over and over by the lack of gayness in said books that I did not exist.

That I was invisible. Why are we telling our kids this? It's the only feeling we have which is infinite That is all that truly matters. It says that people wander around searching for their other half, and when they find him or her, they are finally whole and perfect. The thing that gets me is that the story says that originally all people were really pairs of people, joined back to back, and that some of the pairs were man and man, some woman and woman, and others man and woman.

What happened was that all of these double people went to war with the gods, and the gods, to punish them, split them all in two. There is something ferocious and unself-conscious about it. We don't guard ourselves like we do with boys. No one trains us to shield our hearts from each other. With girls, it's total vulnerability from the beginning.

Our skin is bare and soft. We love with claws and teeth and the blood is just proof of how much. It's feral. And it's relentless. Last time I checked, when you lie you are sinning. Sure, I could tell you I am no longer a lesbian or that I am no longer attracted to women and am straight, or I could even tell you the moon is made of cheese.

I could tell you many things, but the moon will still not be made of cheese, and I will still not be attracted to men. I choose truth over lies any day of the week.

We want to live like trees, sycamores blazing through the sulfuric air, dappled with scars, still exuberantly budding, our animal passion rooted in the city. You'd be daft not to try both when there are so many different flavors. We discovered love was not a fairytale. Sometimes there were no happy endings, and when there were, you needed to work like hell to keep the happiness alive.

Not with that person, but with the act itself. Such intimacy and accord. Even with the awkwardness of first time lovers there was a grace and purity, carnal and beautiful that I knew from that moment on I could never live without. Shy and strange was the look with which she quickly hid her face in my neck and hair, with tumultuous sighs, that seemed almost to sob, and pressed in mine a hand that trembled. Her soft cheek was glowing against mine. She was gazing on me with eyes from which all fire, all meaning had flown, and a face colorless and apathetic.

Let us come in. Come; come; come in. It felt traitorous. A few years ago, I admitted to myself that I was still interested in men in more than a "Brad Pitt is slick hot sexy" kind of way. But I worried whatmy friends, exes, and the Community would think. I never even broached the subject with my parents. Because what bothered me the most was that people would think that being a lesbian had been a phase for me, when that was so very not the case. What I feared was that I would no longer be part of a community, that I might be seen with my boyfriend and not be recognized as something not the same.

Jennifer knew what lesbian meant, and she knew she probably was one. But she couldn't understand why God would hold that against her or against Monica Mathers, who'd never started a war or killed anybody, and whose deadeye three-pointers were straight-up amazing. After all, hadn't God made both of them? But people were like that, she'd noticed. They'd invoke Godly privilege at the weirdest of times and for the most stupid reasons.

And how absurd it was that she didn't even know. She had heard about girls falling in love, and she knew what kind of people they were and what they looked like. Neither she nor Carol looked like that. Yet the way she felt about Carol passed all the tests for love and fitted all the descriptions. She was butch, but not in a swaggering macho way- she could pass as a yeshiva boy, pale and intense. Small, almost fragile, she exuded a powerful sense of herself.

She had not been to a synagogue in years, but kept the law of kashrut, and taught me my first prayers in Hebrew. She cooked, she read, she ironed her dress shirts and polished her boots meticulously, and admired femme women enormously. She was also the first person ever- including myself- to bring me to multiple orgasms.

She taught me to ask for what I wanted in bed, then encouraged me to expect it from her and future lovers. She taught me to get her off with fingers, tongue, lips, sex toys, and my voice. She showed me how to masturbate in different positions, and fisted me during my menstrual cramps to provide an internal massage- and to demonstrate that a sexual act without orgasm was also an acceptable, intimate act. She never separated sexuality from the rest of her life; it was as integral to her as her Judaism.

This was how I wanted to be. Not just sexually, although certainly that way too. This is how I wanted to move through the world. These are garments designed by gay men to attract heterosexual men.

The straight girl is simply the hanger for an inside joke. I had never shown the slightest feeling for them, and apart from my never wearing a skirt, saw nothing else in common between us. Browse By Tag. Welcome back. Just a moment while we sign you in to your Goodreads account.



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