though you can’t see,
there’s poetry
tattooed on every part of me.
from hands I hold,
and tender souls,
and voices that sing harmony.
from words I read,
and friends I keep,
from nights I was up too late;
from unfriendly vows
and who’s and how’s
and “why couldn’t you have stayed?”
there’s poetry,
though you can’t see,
tattooed on every part of me.
each inch of skin
all covered in
the ink life won’t stop giving me.