Miriam Robern's Post

“Girls,” said I, “You do not know
My new boobies only grow
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might squish you.”
And my words like eager heralds spread
To redeem the taste of sadness

And the transfemmes shared and played
With the booby plans we made
And my tits flash out their promise
That one day you might be stacked, miss!
And you will say, “The taste of the capsule
Is slathered inside my cheeks
For growing peaks
I’m grateful for the taste of sadness.”

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