It's been a year since you've left
maybe even longer than that
You were already gone
had your bags already packed

You waited for the day
when you could let your demons die
but along with them
was a beautiful light

The light is gone now
but somehow it still lives on
I see it right here
It's on the side of my arm

Creep is the word
it reminds me of you
A short-lived friendship
5 letters gone too soon

People don't know
when they look at me
the pain in each letter
the ones you set free

I'll carry it for you
and remember your name
murdered by demons
such a god damn shame
tiamac 1d
There is a story
tattooed on your arm,
blooming in plain sight.
Do you see?
Only a few know the history
that is covered up by your
ink, your excuses, your sleeve.
You once told me
'Tattoos don't need a reason.'
But I disagree,
Because there is always an answer to
why?
and sometimes it is 'why not?'
I discovered the story of your
tattooed arm first.
Even before you.
And I can't wait
for you be free of your
cover up.
Tried to do some internal rhyming with this one. Not sure if I love how it turned out - but I do love the sentiment :)
My tattoos are memories
Rights of passage into manhood
Homage to the family name

A novel in the flesh

Every one has it’s own story
Good times and bad
People and places

I remember every chapter well

There’s nothing like that first one
It roped me into an underworld
And I had found my tribe

I never did fit in too well anywhere
Until spending some time under the needle
It was as if I had finally come home

But after I got one
It opened the flood gates

I felt unbalanced
So I got one on the other side
That lead to another
And another

Yet I loved every hour of pain

The noise of the machine gave me chills
Plus it always payed off
In the form of something permanent
A tuff lookin’ badge of honor
That I could take to the grave

I was hooked
And I still am

People ask me if I regret them
What I regret is not having more

They also ask how I think I’ll look at 80
My only answer
Way cooler than you

To me
They’re works of fine art in pigmented skin
Beauty in the form of a colored scar
My life in a picture book illustration

If I could go back
I wouldn’t change a thing
Hell
I’d even add a few pages
©James Dennis Casey IV
Juno Aug 1
i tattooed a heart
on my wrist
to remind me of you
and how you stole
my love from off my sleeve
so i never let it happen again.
Poetry is like a tattoo
Stamped on me from birth.
Like a mysterious voodoo,
It's my charm on this earth.

Poetry is like a tattoo
Engraved on my DNA.
Like the diamonds of Mabutu,
It shines from p.m. to the a.m.

Poetry is like a tattoo
It will never be removed.
Like my love for fufu
Not until I'm disemboweled.

Poetry is like a tattoo
Like the Nile and Egypt,
It encompasses what we do
It's life's soundtrack and script.

Poetry is like a tattoo
It can now be lasered.
But in music, like a crescendo,
It can never be chiseled.

#IvanBrooksPoetry©
31/7/2018
Poetry is like a tattoo, I call it my voodoo.
Liyah Bella Jul 29
i fell in love at the age of 14
we kissed and didn't stop until i was 17
he was the first boy to buy me roses
the first boy who taught me love
real love
now things are strange
we both have changed and grown
he sits in jail with a rose tattoo on his neck
the neck i used to kiss
now it's forever stained with ink
i sit in my home high and depressed
laying in the bed we used to make love in
life isn't the same after many heart breaks
we have both gone through changes
Lauren Osborn Jul 26
My head was against your swollen petals
My hands were through your thorns
Your cross was cold, against my chest
When my spine straightened, I could see the reflection of my hope in your eyes.
When your cross went down my thighs, it only made me realize that my hope may never die.
It was too bad you withheld my heart when it melted through your fingertips.
First hidden love with an older man. Written at 17 years of age.
Ian Wissler Jul 22
No, I don't want to get a tattoo with you,
I may not have a mark on you, but I'm covered in you.
Our past has brought with it a dizzying myriad of hardships,
Some by my hand, some by yours,
The only difference is I've changed,
And you still lie.

No, I don't want to get a tattoo with you,
Why would I share something so meaningful,
When you keep so many secrets,
Omit my existence to others,
And lie to my face?

No, I don't want to get a tattoo with you,
Because the idea of looking at my body,
And having a permanent memory of our lives,
Is a sickeningly sweet lie I cannot face.

No, I don't want to get a tattoo with you,
It'd be fake, just like our relationship with one another,
A lie we should've gave up on sooner.

No. I don't want to get a tattoo with you.
Silverflame Jul 17
The black ink curves over my
skin like a crouching tiger.
The pain is nothing compared to the open
wound that has settled in my heart.
My guardian angel with no wings
nor halo has given me the emptiness.
He sits on the silver-plated moon,
he keeps her company.

The ink has etched into my skin,
writing down his and my history.
Without him the Grim Reaper would
have harvested my life-flower long ago.

He held his hand over me when
I walked on broken glass.
He hummed lullabies when
the demons screamed their chants.
He wiped my tears away
when the mirror was distorted.
His presence played chess with
the ever oppressive solitude.

Now that he is gone, I am an easy
prey for the lions of the world.
I'm just a bunny,
my vegetables can scare nobody.
But he was also a bunny,
a bunny who fought to the last.
So the least I can do is fight so
he can see he did not fight in vain.

And if I ever feel lonely,
I'll just dive into the moonlight
where he resides.
Draw me in lines and shades,
Blue pen on blank pages.
Paint me on your skin,
All colorful swirls and edgy shapes.
Feel me with every puncture,
In and out on your chest.
Moan with me when you can’t tell,
If it’s pleasure or painful as hell.
Cage me in the lust of the flesh,
Tattoo me with the ink of your heart.
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