Queen In a Tin Tub

Queen in a tin tub

I feel your gaze

The heat settling first on my crown before dropping to the battleground below

The colours of my pride flag tracking across my skin

Purpled hallows of red rimmed eyes.

Blue grey steel heavy with salted water and another broken sob

My empty chest sags and it’s weight surprises me

It should be lighter,

easier to bare, to stretch, to cover,

You use the cloth to wash away the orange stains,

My arms fight to rise to do this basic of tasks.

Warm water rinses the lavender soap from my hair and I rest back into your palm,

eyes closed,

enjoying the sensation and fighting the emotion

The rose-tinted bath water cools around my legs and I mumble a request for the soap

Drawing my knees towards my chin

to avoid exposing more of my recovering body to your curious sympathy.

This is my balance,

vanity and necessity battling across the two sides of my mind

After all this time I feel the loss like a security blanket whipped away

This body will take some time to understand

It’s healing already underway,

The scars closing and finding their place amongst all the others.

But with the mothers space already taken and now that false femininity removed too,

I don’t know how to be a woman in my medically de-womanised frame.

Elegant fingers tilt my chin up, angling my eyes to face you.

‘Beautiful’ you whisper with that secure cats’ smile

The soft kiss you gift me is a promise on my lips.

You rest your cheek on my crown,

And hold me while I cry.

Your strong arms always more than physical

I’m your queen in a tin tub.