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Racquel Tio Jun 2016
you tell me
you don't want to commit
but on our very first date
I tattooed your wrist.

my hand without yours
feels like my nose
without rings.
but they weren't meant to be there in the first place.

you say you need to go.
you need to find yourself you say.
but those nights you made me feel like
you were gonna be the one that
finds me as we lay.

you are a poem.
but I am a poet.
I can rewrite you or
crumple you up or
place the rhythm at which I write of you
into whoever I choose.
but you cannot rewrite yourself without me.
Racquel Tio Jun 2016
I say I'm scared of commitment,
you ask me why I have tattoos.
I tell you
tattoos can't leave me,
or be taken away,
or ripped off of me as soon as I feel like they are apart of my skin and who I am.
tattoos were there for me when everyone left.
tattoos stayed with my body when even my mind turned against it.
tattoos are all I have that is permanent.
Haley Anne Jun 2016
XV
I want this number etched onto my skin
as a permanent reminder of what once was
to remind me of both the pain and the beauty
the way ‘I love you’s fell from your lips so reassuringly when I needed it the most,
the future that we talked about sharing together so often that I was certain it would happen
the beauty that was us
as well as a reminder of the pain
of all of the broken sobs that shook my entire body
of all of the sleepless nights
of having to accept the fact that I’m no longer the one you long to be with
I want something to remind me of all of the promises made on this day
the ones that were never kept
as well as the ones that I still hold close to my heart
I want a tattoo to remind me of this day
the day that I accepted who I was
the day that I realized loving you was worth giving up everything I once believed to be true
I want this number etched onto my skin to remember the pain and the beauty
but not as a scar,
never a scar
I want it as a beautiful reminder
because you my love, are something never to be forgotten
I will not allow myself to act as if our love never happened
I will not treat it as a mistake
and when someone asks about the ‘XV’ carved onto my skin,
I will explain the meaning of it to the best of my abilities
and though they may adequately understand my words
they will never understand the importance of it
I want ‘XV’ etched onto my skin as a reminder
a reminder of a once great love.
Joy May 2016
He was all tattoos,
And cigarette breath - knocked down,
Drowned beneath his charm.
May, 2016
Brent Kincaid May 2016
She was a vegetarian
Cigarette-smoking drunk
Who fell in love easily
With any handsome hunk.
She was a bible-quoting
Daily Zodiac-addicted muse
In dungarees, leather chaps
And covered with tattoos.

Like a character from Monty Python
She always had pentagram earrings on.
And she loudly wondered constantly
Why nobody ever took her seriously.

She looked like a biker mama,
But she never owned a bike.
A personality like barbed wire
She was so very hard to like.
She growled like a take-off
Out of Cape Canaveral.
Why she wasn’t popular she
Could never understand at all.

She had the strangest body parts
Tattooed or heavily pierced
She looked unlike a human being
And she thought that was fierce.

She walked like The Thing
From the Fantastic Four
And I was never sure she knew
What shower was created for.
Her entire vocabulary was
Based on waste matter and ***.
I really do believe she was
The product of an ancient hex.
Hao Nguyen Apr 2016
Your commitments and word
Are inks stained on cold skin
Taken without pain sacrificed,
Easily washed away in water:
Simple imitations...
That at its essence
Mock the sanctity and identity
of actual tattoos.
Tamera Pierce Apr 2016
Every sunrise brings a wave of hurt to wash over me like a typhoon.
Every sunset brings my regrets to come rest like bricks on my shoulders.
Threatening to snap  my spine in two.

Every doubt comes and shackles to my ankles.
I let the metallic taste melt into my blood stream and become part of me.

Every noise shatters my ear drums and sends shocks through my body.
They leave burns streaked across my body like tattoos.
Tattoos that won't wash off in the sink.
They won't fade with time.
Tattoos that remind me who I am.
...Or used to be.

Every blade of grass cuts my feet like words cut my back as you stuck each one in with precision.

Every car drives away with my hopes and dreams buckled in the back seat listening to the radio.
Singing every word like they can't hear me crying for them to return.

Every cloud rains on my mind like acid that pours from the bottle into his glass.
Like hatred onto the plate that she sniffs.

Every warmth I feel drowns in my sorrows like I drown in the typhoon that lays at my feet.
I will always have my tattoos.
a memory of myself.
...or used to be.
Alyaan Tariq Mar 2016
Loving a stranger I had been
Marked in permanence was
Not a phrase but her name
Penetrating deep into my skin of life
It's not a scar,it's never a scar
It's the ink holding meaning
They say it lasts forever
But it's only until I reach the grave
On my arm was Valentina ,carved
A result of countless pricking needles
I didn't see the inked name, I saw her
Whatever on my heart was  
Was beyond anything she could ever see
She should've known the feeling , but
Loving a stranger I had been
Creepstar Mar 2016
Weaving little droplets of darkness into sub dermal layer
Pressing close but not too hard,assure each line's a stayer
Coulded claret brought forth from beneath
A work of art,to you I bequeath
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