i loathe the curves of my hips
that were stolen from a man.
i was created to be poured into
so i know the hole in my chest
will ache until i am found.
i was crafted because he was lonely.
i am to bow my head.
nobody ever speaks of me.
about how the universe is mine, too.
how i dream in the night of things
far greater than his arms
without hands around my waist
or young children running beneath my feet.
i dream of a world where a man does not complete me.
About the Creator
Sara
Don’t look for love.
Be love.
Fair Exchange, No Robberies
Dark Memoirs - Index There are at least two kinds of people in the world: those who write this half-arsed kind of intro to a story that looks to separate the rare and the norm, and those who realise it's an overused framing device and don't.
By Paul Stewart7 days ago in Chapters
Comments (3)
I second Vicki's point. It's a myth! Already, "man does not complete me." That said, you crushed with this poem. Beautifully and powerfully written.
This was extremely powerful! Loved your poem!
We don't need a man to complete us as women , it's a myth! 💯