This white plaster conceals the words never spoken.
The writing upon my arm.

Covering that white writing,
Hugging it,
Keeping it safe.
Letters to myself.

That white writing that burns red,
Turning white at the hands of time.

Those words that were shallow, Meaningless,
Eradicated totally.

But those deeper words...
Those early hours,
Empty rooms.

Eternally white writing