Untouched, pure and translucent derma that I long to touch. Let me trace the freckles on your cheeks, felt tip pen colors fade into your porcelain skin. The stars can't shine together with you, they're too afraid. They know they're fake, but you, you are the purest in nighttime. Even when I say this, you complain how you're too pale, but baby, barbie dolls are dying to be you. Although i know you don't want to be compared with barbie dolls, let's just laugh at that sad reality everyone seems to be facing. Don't be one of them. Kiss yourself, praise yourself for the unholy and sinful wanting of mine for you. Want to touch you, mark you - felt tip pen colors melting into your white, white, white but flawed skin. Want to trace constellations on your cheeks, on the back of your hand - let me hold you. "I'm not beautiful," porcelain skinned boy with insecurities measured bigger than his fading faith in humanity - i love you.