#sharpie
I thought you were a tattoo
A permanent mark on my skin
A love that lasts forever
But you were only the ink of a sharpie
After just a few showers
You washed away
Sep 8, 2024
Sep 8, 2024 at 8:40 PM UTC
my heart is alive
it's hurting so very sweetly
with the taste of you
how lovely it burns
I miss the taste of your mouth
while the day goes by
sharpie on my skin
i want to write my words on
your flesh so gently
i can try harder
but words don't do you justice
I wish you were mine
Jul 12, 2019
Jul 12, 2019 at 9:56 PM UTC
color
blank
color
a white sheet of paper
to some,
intimidating
to others,
an inviting canvas
sharpies lined up
in a rainbow
hand picked
and thought out
by ink-stained hands
blank
then a line
what a miracle
the marker is
to create
with nothing
but the turn of a wrist
drag it along
with your rainbow of colors
and create
perhaps a red penciled rose
With few of blue
and thorns of green
or maybe
a cerulean sea
turquoise waves
white froth
emerald turtles
and golden sand
or possibly
a boy
with ashen hair
and icy eyes
rose petal cheeks
and baby-soft lips
create
something beautiful
colors
and dreams
create
blank
create
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 11:10 PM UTC
a picture of Debbie Harry (by Andy Warhol).
a Stoneman Douglas awareness sticker.
a red Supreme sticker.
"favor" written in blue dry erase.
the queen of hearts from a pack of Aviators.
"still waters run deep and ***** in Sharpie.
and me. except that it's not me.
it's you. and it's not erasable.
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 11:49 PM UTC
I used a black sharpie to write a love poem on your arm
Hoping the ink would sink into depths causing little to no harm
That the rough words may permeate through your tough skin
And the permanence may prove that forever starts from within
That the black is dark enough to hide all your scars from being used
And that my words are evidence and proof of my love for you
So let that ink sink as deep as it might
My words peirce your soul without a fight
My sharpie art fill you with awe and an imaginative spark
Be inspired by my loving words and the permanent scar they leave on your heart
You may forget my face, you may forget my name but never forget where my love made its mark
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 2:08 AM UTC
Love is a sharpie
Some days it draws good things,
Some days it draws bad ones.
The lines can be thick or thin,
Or long or short.
If you leave the cap off, it'll dry out.
Or sometimes they just explode.
But usually they work just fine,
Although they do smell funny.
You can do many things with a sharpie. Even though it says "permanent",
It'll usually wash off.
Some times, you gotta rub it real hard to get it to come off,
And even then,
Not all of it does.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 1:09 AM UTC
The Sharpie X on my hand stands out against my pale white skin
It says "you are a child"
With it a thirteen-year-old is equally restricted as a twenty-year-old
The sharpie X means no alcohol and it means no trust
It says "you are a liar"
With it they are making sure that you don't lie about your age to get alcohol
Is that what every person under twenty-one is?
A liar?
A kid?
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
there's something about seeing
the faded sharpie on my arms
because it means i've scrubbed it all away
along with the memories of flowers and thorns
there's something about knowing
that you haven't been okay
that makes me fill up pages with too many words
and drives me completely insane
but i'll scrub you away like sharpie
because what should be permanent, never is
and soon enough you'll fade away
much like the words on my skin
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
In this city the bright lights can blind you
let you forget the rustic coins littered around the floor
caught by grimy hands belonging to a woman
she holds her life on a thin piece of cardboard
written in faded Sharpie
If you ever lose your way with the crowd
and stumble upon the empty alleyways
they possess cracked glass from beer bottles,
old shopping advertisements, broken toys
and the stench of trash mixed with lost hope realizing
the pavement isn't always perfect but littered with cracks
Walk further down and you will pass the rejected streets,
houses gone foreclosed and no remorse
all that matters is the country's history,
pressed on notorious green paper belonging to greedy hands
forgetting about the family that lost their house
Wait at the train station,
for the rumble and two yellow lights
The snake of a train claims passengers
trapping them between closed doors,
only allowing them to face their own misery
some escape with headphones
others just stare into the darkness with sunken eyes and drunken sighs
Walking home see the gum wrappers and dead leaves skid around
the soles of your worn shoes
Graffiti garage doors only display discarded art
And when the night is still
you can feel the empty consonants and vowels crawl up your legs
forming the unspoken words from unwanted voices that lay
Hidden under our feet.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 7:19 PM UTC