stay in touch!

My partner, Michelle Belanger, has quietly inspired me to be even more open than I already was about who I am. Sometimes, being your whole self is revolutionary. I don't expect you, reader, to agree with everything I say, or to share all of my interests. But if my openness helps even one person feel more at home in the world, I will count that openness a choice well made.

I'm polyamorous, kinky, and transgender. In my case, that means I'm open to multiple loving, sexual relationships (polyamorous). I'm in a power exchange relationship dynamic (kinky). I identify as neither male nor female, but as agender (transgender). I'm happy to talk about these identifications with anyone who's interested. I have no interest in forcing my thoughts on anyone, but I DO have an interest in being personally transparent, direct, and accessible. There's too much violence against all the groups I identify with to make silence a viable option for me. Honesty is not the problem here: fear is. We all fear the unknown. So I'm all for making alternative identities part of an open conversation. 

Below, you'll find links to my profiles on a bunch of social sites. Feel free to get in touch if you have questions, whether you & I share a lifestyle choice and you'd like someone to talk with, or just to say hi. Fair warning: some are definitely NOT Safe For Work.

Connect with me on Facebook *** Twitter *** LinkedIn *** Upwork *** OKCupid *** FetLife (Facebook for kinksters)

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Here's a poem, for those of you who dared to venture past the clickables.

 

she never lost her hair

 

in the dream

my mother is upset.

she is losing her hair.

she brushes it but long hanks

come off and stick in her brush.

she puts on a bright bandanna.

 

i can fly, and i can carry her, so

together we soar over the bridge, over water,

to a sheltered vale in the mountains.

we grin at each other, we laugh

at how limitless we are.

 

she is tiny. she is frail,

but i feel her strength.

 

have we come full circle, now?

now my turn is here.

i cradle her, too dear for words,

we feel no fear

of falling or of death.

 

death has already visited us,

and still we find time

to fly, in my dreams.

 

i read her journals.

 

my life 

still twines with hers,

with the long strands of her silver hair

that hide, mischievous,

in a sheltered vale in the mountains, and

beneath my pillow.

 

Copyright Elyria Little 2015

 

 

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