I see you walk past the mirror,
unwilling to look at yourself.
I hear the poisonous lies you tell yourself about yourself.
I want to caress, bless and kiss every inch of your body that you ever imagined to be less than perfect. I want to hold you with such tenderness that you awaken and remember the goddess you are.
I want to whisper an unending cascade of truth and faith in your sweet, hate-ravaged ears and watch as the wicked lies you were told about your true nature decay and fade and wither away.
I want to spend my days dressing you in the silks you deserve and the styles that delight you. I want to spend my nights undressing you to show you just how lovely you are without the costumes.
I want to anoint every place that displeases you with fragrant oils and luxuriate together in your heady perfume.
I want to strew your path with rose petals and fan you with palm fronds at your every step.
If I worship you, as you deserve to be worshiped, will you look into the mirror and recognize the goddess you were all along?