Today you pushed back your sleeves
Suddenly, violently,
"I did this in London."
Two tattoos still raw,
Still red the way you complain
People's always are when they
Show them off too early.

With a 5 point needle
And a sixteenth ounce of black ink
You'd bled yourself a crutch
And brought my legs out from under me.

"It means a lot that you like it."
You have scarred your body with
My words of love and you dare to blush
Under my consideration. Every time you
Touch those marks I imagine my fingers
On your arms, tracing your art
And arteries until you pull me in
And kiss me, put your fingers on my arms
And say thank you

                           (I love you)

Say anything but, "it means a lot"
Because I've said that you mean
So much to me so many times and
You just brushed it off, I want to
Brush those lightweight lies off your lips
With my lips, with my fingers
On your lips, until I draw the ink from
Under your skin and you understand
It to be the poison that it is
When it reaches my heart and turns sense to
Seconds until our next touch
And I never have to see that tattoo again
And I never have to feel this way again
Maybe then you'll understand

'Q