teoyusiang

Arms overturned, inside-up, pale, blue veins all showing translucent, sinew, bone. Against my tanned skin, my forearm is almost a shock of white. Like that small dollop of cream on a macchiato you stir in to mix with the rest of your coffee, I too, tried to make this paleness more like the rest of my painted, gilded skin. I left it to roast in this painful sun, hoping the skin would darken, harden, hide the veins on my wrist so that no one could follow these secret threads running so deep they measure time by desires my heart floods my body with. Beneath bangles, bracelets, sleeves, it is a secret in plain sight. And under these cloth