Someday a man will look me in the eyes
and I will not see myself reflected in his pupils,
but the best version of myself.

The tangled parts of me I’ve kept buried
deep within coursing veins,
pieces even I don’t understand
but can be unraveled by his hands only.

My ******* will not be symbols of my ability to ****
but will offer warmth and support,
a nuzzling ground fit for only his temples
and the warm wet mouths of our children.

My hips won’t just offer smooth curves
of lust and temptation,
but will prove strong enough to survive
all the wrong paths I took in finding him.

My *** won’t be bragged about in locker rooms
nor silenced by sharp thrusts and stabbing bites.

It will be real.

That thing they call love with entangle us
together in unison and we will be
equals,
making love to pouring rain
dancing barefoot through emotional hallways of our future.

Someday a man will look me in the eyes
And see me as I truly am.