Dear Butch, Love Femme.

If these Walls could Talk II
If these Walls could talk 2

Dear Butch

I see you. I rolled over this morning and saw you there sleeping peacefully, your swagger gone, your femininity shining through while I was asleep in your arms. I smiled to myself because I am so privileged to see behind the butch bravado that you show the world, to see the woman that society thinks is missing.

When I saw you from across the room in your bow tie and your suit all swagger and confidence, I felt it, the femme hunger. You sparked something inside me and I couldn’t wait to participate in that sacred butch-femme dance.

The Butch Femme Dance
The Butch Femme Dance

I know you saw me in my dress and my heels, I did it all for you. I did it to ignite the butch desire burning in your heart. You sauntered over to me, cocky, ready to pounce on this ‘innocent’ femme, but I know your game. I am a High Femme and I know how to play, but you knew that already.

I hold my head high and let you guide me around the room, hand on the small of my back as you show me off, knowing that you are mine and I am so proud to be yours. My dapper butch, the flutter of my heart when you open the door for me or pull my seat out, I just can’t explain how special you make me feel. I have always been a princess, but with you I feel like a queen.

I am a high femme and my title means a lot to me. It is who I am. You are a butch, I know you understand. I am not weak and I am not submissive or helpless. I think that heterosexual society often perceives me as a damsel in distress and you as a man. They couldn’t be more wrong.

Maybe we should show them what happens behind closed doors my love? Maybe we should show them your subtle blush when I tell you that you’re beautiful or how you trust me enough to let me take over in the bedroom. Better yet, let them see you holding a baby, my big tough butch dissolved to goo’s and ga’s. I wont tell anyone, your secret is safe with me.

Femme problems: Labels and libido,

I am not a gender stereotype and nor am I going against my feminist ideals by being feminine. Yes, I let you open jars for me and love it when you walk between myself and the curb but it is all part of our dance.  Yes I like to be protected, I love the chivalry and butch mannerisms that you show me, but I can fight for myself and I will protect you until the end. It is not you that society needs to be weary of, it is me.

I see the way people look at you on the street. You know that I am on guard always looking to protect you, to protect us. I wonder how those people who stare, the ones who look at you when you walk into the woman’s bathroom, how would they feel if we were to stare at them? One day my butch, people won’t make a fuss, we will go unnoticed. For that day, I cannot wait.

I see you beautiful girl. I see the way you look at me like I am your world. I see your masculinity, your femininity. I see you cry, I see your heartache. I see you all.

And I love all I see.

Love Femme.



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