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Nov 2018
Musing, thinking aloud, of
Taking a little line for a walk, down my spine, down curves of flesh
Over pale creamy rises and falls
Interrupted by the gathering storm of you
Declaring tattoos for others, not me
No story of me in black ink on white, no tale in twisted vine and script, no
Desecration of your terrain,
Alteration in rhythmic refrain and ouch, red everywhere.
I would argue with you but I must please
Your gravity has me riveted, taken aback by the venom
Vehement and pure, spat in their direction
The canvas people walking around
Illustrated versions of lifelong perspectives
Their jewels of ink shimmering in trapped caresses,
Gathered in unison images binding intent to design...
My wont, this desire to be amongst them
Magick workers unleashing heaven as they pass through their days
Eating lunch with their besties in an act of casual sorcery
A beauty never intended
For me.
Sulking, quiet mouthed, you
Taking a little hand for a walk, down my spine, down curve of limb
Over pale milky hills and valleys
You would stop short at the first letter advance
Touch me not, touch me not
Simmering anger at the craven trespass, inelegant in your eyes, crass
Decoration of your domain
Knives in your eyes makes me think twice, cut by ice
I drop the question, keep the peace, yet

I remain
An open page to the world’s eyes
And wear my secret inkings on the inside.
Deidre Lockyer
Written by
Deidre Lockyer  54/F/Melbourne, Australia
(54/F/Melbourne, Australia)   
609
   Fawn
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