I stared into your eyes looking for cliché signs that had been left behind by toxic masculinity.
Signs leading me to believe that; "all men are the same." My ripped piece of cloth nearly falling off my waist when, you would lean in to help me tie it back up.
My body! streaming down cold shivers, from previous trauma of letting men touch me and for a minute you'd stop.
You'd look at my "beaten up face", and without a word you would make me feel comfortable in my own skin. Going from an eye to an eye clearing off make up smudges and internally fighting the urge...
My king, you would then invite me into your home where you sing songs of praise and worship and teach me that I am worthy of love.
You would then set up making me a spring in your garden, your lens ready to shoot God's creation.
You would! plant a thorn amongst lily's or apple trees amongst the forest and patiently wait for it to blossom not knowing when.
And I.. I'd lay on your carpet reminding myself not to stare with desire and you.. you would take the time to look at my wounds that go unnoticed, rubbing on each scar like you were the story teller.
-Uaueza Kanguatjivi
