The thought of
A rod through my navel
Sent you spiraling
Into fits of rage

After we broke
Things off last summer
I cleaned my skin
And pierced away

Long wavy hair
Was my only choice
The single way
To be seen

Yet, I got the guts
To do it my way
Bravado voice;
Cutting it clean

Sweet red wine
Was a sin and a stain
"Tainted words"
Your complaint

Declared what was mine
With moscato and champagne
Flew with the birds -
Absent restraint

Ink was for
Drawing on paper
For processed trees -
Not porcelain skin

Claimed my pores
As lavish wallpaper
My own decree
You've deemed a sin