world

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.