when you and I are understood
Yoo-ryung, you are tattooed with bruises an iridescent skin whispers in ripples, how you didn't accept our embraces. You want to translate a brush, a nudge as familial. Still acquiring ghost appendages. Still learning how to speak foreigner. How an accident in touch can cause the skin to glow, to radiate with other
This is how we hold hands, I yawns shapely syllables and we both fear a new language. This is how we wear matching shirts, I daydreams inside the den of your stare and we both question an innocent act. This is how we love link our arms, I releases her stomach muscles and we both worry about our physique. This is how we touch openly, I journals a conversation with personal space and we both forget how bare our shoulders really are
Speak our skin away, yoo-ryung. Be exhaled breath softening our body so in passing, we are passing through. A foreigner's touch does not exist since to speak is to touch. An unguarded stare is felt and whiteness is extracted. We can wear innocence to avoid self and no one would question y(our) actions. Am I without responsibility? If you will, then I am. So, what is ghostly now? We have not become other, yoo-ryung. Our whitening is an awakening. We can not exist for you.
We hold hands without touching, I is in quiet mental absorption. We are family before we are married. Our thumbs press firmly against each other. We wear each other without knowing, forgetting to try on ourselves. We are everyone's partner, passionate about family. We do not take each other's hand from an urge, but from urgency. Ours is an auspicious holding. A handshake is a handhold, a kiss.
We bruise ourselves so that you may pass beneath our blood, yoo-ryung. Why can't you understand that I has always been migrating through, housing every impurity, to keep your blood clean. Migration is a dirty act. We keep our blood close Yet, you needled me inside your family. to keep I from barring y(our) way. In this way, are we family? In you is we, and here, I wants to settle, but it is natural to migrate through each other. Still, in passing though, you confuse the way our blood aspires to be pure. What blood are we when you and I are understood?