I wrote you poems
On pretty papers
With pens
So that when the rain came
It wouldn't wash them away
You tattooed your words
On the walls of my heart
So that when the pain came
The letters would stay
My ink was bright blue
And yours was black
I'm left with your tattoo
And you're left with a stack
Of papers with poetry
That will only serve
For mockery
I will always wonder
If you meant what you said
And you will always know
I meant what you read