My fingers grazed over the pages of a book as the words stained my skin.
Promiscuity.. punctuality.. prerequisite.
Words with definition unknown to my simple mind.
The words stained deeply.
Causing a story to be written on my flesh
I wonder if others can see it.
On my forehead it began at least I believed
It wrapped around my whole body spiraling.
The depth in the words raced through my soul
Hurt, passion and love fell victim to my inked skin.
The lettering encrypted crinkling speaking of passion needed to be set free.
Rain nor just water washed it away.
I literally wore my heart on my sleeve as the deepest secrets I held read clear there.
I placed my hand on a book and my body transformed.
I was a story of my own
I did not master my words yet my story grew.