Talent Genderless

His ribs, stark like lover's hands wrapped around him.

Sexuality is a complicated, convoluted thing. Everyone everywhere tries to wrap it into a neat little box, forcing it into shape where the surface isn't smooth, ignoring what doesn't fit, changing the colour and the size as they themselves need it to change. It's integral and explains the existence of every single being on this planet, but still someone gets it wrong somewhere. If everybody agrees, if nobody suffers, why are there still victims?