Phantasm

when he becomes
more than just a dream,
my heart will beat
the sound of a thousand drums
my soul will ache
with the clinching of needy fists
my mind will race
towards a feminine understanding,
and butterflies will
make sense again.
their existence
somehow unbelievable,
until then.

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Musing

Allow me to pretend,
he’d feel like magic
with flawed skin,
an usually infectious
laugh and grin.
I’d be reminded
I am enough
over and over again,
and then loved
as if I were
his very own.