We sat across the table
and I couldn't look away
from all his tattoos.

Without thinking,
I stretched out my hand
and extended my finger.

I began to trace
the arcade tickets that ran
the length of his arm.
He grew up with his grandfather
and they spent hours in his arcade.
His grandfather was his first best friend,
so the tickets they won were his first tattoo.

I could feel his smile grow.
He loved his tattoos
and now I did, too.

He left a mark on my life.
Just like the ink
on his skin.

I see him everywhere.
I can't tell if he tattooed himself
in my mind or under my eyes.

There's no escaping
or replacing him.
There's just no one like him.

He had a kind of goodness
that could be seen
in the smile that
would burn into the back of my mind,
haunting me for years.

He was just dorky enough
to get a laugh out of me
when I had the weight of the
world on my chest.

If you're lucky enough
to even know him,
he'll put a tattoo in you, too.

Whether you want it or not,
you will never forget him.
Trust me, I've tried.

He comes out of nowhere
and he helps you.
He asks for help
just as much as you.

It's just enough
to make you think
that he needs you, too.

God knows he was what I needed.
I needed him like
an alcoholic needs his whisky.
He was my whisky.

His finger tips
had a different kind of ink
and he was part of me with every touch.
I swear he had needles
in the tips of his fingers.
His touch always stung,
and now I will never
forget that sting
that is now stuck
in the parts of me he touched.

All the hugs,
the intentional and unintentional ways
that we touched.
They left their mark,
their pain-riddled stain on me.

The stains of him were left
with memories and stories
and they were attached
to songs that I can no longer listen to
and places I can no longer visit.

He came into my life so quick
and he left just as fast.
I think about him often.

I dream about him often.
It's like he stops in now and then
to catch up in chat in my sleep.

He took a part of me
with him when he left.
But his memories remain
and I don't want them.

I think about the goals he had
and I hope he achieves them.
I just wish I could be the one
that gets to congratulate him.

He will be leaving in August
and I will probably never see
or talk to him again.
But I will never be able
to forget him.

He is the one tattoo
I wish I could remove.