The purity of genuine love

How do I convince you
That my love for you is genuine?
It’s tender like dew glistening
On a cobweb in the grass at dawn.
It’s tender like the sandalwood
shoots
Sprouting at the foot of the tree
It’s pure like the milk of the cow
Feeding its head butting the calf.
Yes, of course
My body was used, abused
In childhood, adults seem
So powerful
They have all the rights
To disbelieve
That their friends would attack
Their daughter in sneaky ways
With a smile which never
Reaches their eyes
And fingers which reach…