By Moses Gitonga
My flaws have me convinced,
I am not worthy of this gift,
The audacity of me!!!
To think that he can find perfection within this vessel
I kill myself,
For those curves…
Worth holding onto,
For those legs…
My dress would feel ashamed to cover up,
For that hair…
That would make the sky come down just to get a closer look,
For that skin tone…
That would sing harmonious melodies of beauty every time he touches me,
I kill myself for that ‘to-die-for’ figure,
They keep telling me, however,
Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder,
This makes me wonder;
What does he see?
What’s his perception of me?
I hope in his eyes,
Lies the beauty my mirror seems intent on not awakening,
Hope his eyes,
See past the temporary solutions of hair appointments, spa days and trendy beauty
Hope I’ll be confident to allow them a peek at the scars I carry inside,
And after, maybe he’ll be mesmerized at how I can still afford to smile,
I hope he trips on my shortcomings,
And falls in love with my bravery,
I hope his eyes,
Will see in me,
The most sincere form of beauty,
A sight they would never want to look away from.