Member-only story
Man of Her Dreams
(A Love Letter by her to the Divine Masculine)
I dream of a man not made of stone,
But one who’s carved from flesh and bone
With soul untamed and heart laid bare,
He holds his fire with mindful care.
He walks not first, nor pulls me behind,
But keeps his pace with heart aligned.
His voice is calm, his silence kind,
A mirror deep, a steady mind.
He does not conquer, boast, or claim,
Nor dims the stars to raise his name.
He lifts with hands that never clutch,
And speaks with truth, but not too much.
He does not chase, he does not flee,
He simply stands and lets me be.
He sees me clear through every phase,
Through fire, through fall, through storm and blaze.
He honors rage as much as grace,
And never flinches from my face.
He meets the shadows I have known,
Not to fix but hold his own.
He does not fear my ancient cry,
The broken wings I tried to fly.
He kisses wounds, not just my skin,
And meets the wild I hold…
