Tag Archives: ink

Sonnet #3

Your fingers press gently against my skin
and brush away the bold color that bleeds
from the scar that you are etching within
my body forever; from the needle
into my skin rushes the viscous ink.
First touch I’ve given my canvas to you;
my skin meets the needle in perfect sync
with the river of black ink pulsing through
the dermis. The figure slowly takes shape
under the artful needle’s steady hum.
With each stroke on this physical landscape
now a further canvas my skin becomes.
A masterpiece, once merely a figment,
becomes eternal in liquid pigment.

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Dead Skin

You can’t see her tattoos, but they’re there. The vivid ink on her chest, hips and legs somebody’s covered them up in a simple black dress with accompanying lace around the neck. If you really wanted to see them, you could glance at her V-shaped neckline and see a hit of some black ink on her chest above her breasts, but you probably won’t peek. So they’re my little secret; only I know what’s hidden there.

Her first tattoo, the one everyone can see,  is curled around her right arm, a simple, elegant floral vine of black roses and thorns draping  around her elbow and up her forearm to resemble a creeping ivy wall on an old brick building. It’s faded now. The  sunlight and weight loss and razor blades have taken away some of its initial luster. It looks greyer than ever against her own grey skin.

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