This poem was contributed by artist, writer and cat lover Demi Anter. View more of her work and her awesome products on Proxy Shop.
I prefer to be pale.
I like seeing the blue lines shift underneath me in mirrors,
flicker, transparent, like another skin, under-skin,
of blood and tissue and this is my body.
I prefer to know the strings that hold it (me) together
I prefer to see
the red-orange blossoms of cheeks
the dull grey freckles that guide them
to pink ears, to white lips
the raw, the undercooked,
I prefer to burn, in sunlight
What is love
without the pleasure of a scar?
And to the stars, I am a diamond,
and to rivers, I am stone,
and to Fathers, I am Rose,
and to Mothers, I am a thorn,
and to God, I am content,
and to the roar, I am ocean,
and to the silence, I am a blip,
and to you, I am a picture
taken in stillness;
it’s snowing, and
you’d only know I’m (was) there
because you’re (were) holding your hand out