Member-only story
All My Dreams are Real
Let’s Make Our Own Fantasy
All My Dreams Are Real
I’m in a state, dear Asha, where I feel like the ant, crushed underfoot.
I want the recognition of the world in a unanimous fashion so I can brag about all the fun it is just to be alive and to be me.
I’m a native of these parts, protect the flag like I would any other sacred symbol up on my shelf.
And the way you bounce — it saves all humanity to see you in that state.
I could never minimize how wonderful your style is, a class above all the other ladies.
So, I pray that you’ll meet me in the lobby at the aquarium and come without a mask so I can see those lips I want to kiss.
My publisher wants to meet you, discover the source of my muse, but I would rather not share your light with anyone else.
I’d rather occupy another person’s body than to lose you.
The gradient I need to climb to even get there is no small challenge, but like the turn of the screw I make the effort, go for a swim in your large eyes.
I just hope the water never turns to ice and you decide to adopt an untoward attitude.
