Written by Ivy Lu from Fairmont Preparatory Academy, California, USA i do not crave the tempestuous myth of love – no fantasy vows nor kisses of devotion but rather the quiet, sacerdotal rites of being tended to. i want to be handled as one handles relics: with a reverence that trembles at the wrist. count me– not in measures of worth of want, but in sunspots and freckles, those constellatory blemishes scattered like tiny stars across my cheeks. enumerate them as if each one
