it's a lot like
when you're
picking berries
all day
and enjoying
the bursts of
**** and
sweet
on your tongue
when
all the while
the dark
red juice
is running
down your
wrists and
quietly soaking
the tips of
your fingers
and they sort
of just silently
adapt
and
accept this
foreign but
familiar
deep
red stain
so set within
the ridges and
ripples
indistinguishable
from the actual
grooves
and
pink of your
real fingerprints
that
you don't
even notice
when it
finally
starts to
fade
away