Scars

Embroidered dress, gold like the evening sun, covering up the bruises on his lithe body from when they touched too hard (always too hard). Their dancing boy. Their toy.
Not for much longer though, he will be too old in a year. And then-
No one to save him. No one who cares.
For you, a thousand times over.
Sparkly bracelets, little bells around his ankles, crimson lips. Thick layer of powder to conceal the deep scar above his eye.
Now he looks beautiful. Now it's time to dance.
No amount of powder can hide the scars he carries inside.