This sadness starts out like sitting on a balcony in the evening and its cold so you slightly shiver but not cold enough to freeze wraped in a blanket holding a warm mug of coffee and lighting a cigarette, or two, or five coffee is bitter with half tea spoon of sugar and full fat milk then suddenly your mug is empty and the ceramic feels cold on your skin - there is no more cigarettes to light all thats left is a blanket that slowly slides off of your body and now you are Freezing
Darling, do not tell me that you are more beautiful with those drawings on your skin. You've convinced yourself that they mean so much to you, and no one can even begin to understand, but I want you to know that the real beauty of an individual is more than simply skin deep. That is why the ink on your skin does not impress me. Everyone has stories and scars —I just choose not to wear mine on the outside.
This poem was written in 2016. Disclaimer: I love tattoos and scars. I have some of my own. :)