Tattoo

Tuesday, I made an appointment,

To turn skin to ink.

In haste to rebrand my fate,

I left no time to think.

When I met the tattooist,

I was left with a mark.

Crafted with a linguistic pen,

Designed to graffiti the heart.

He spoke few words,

as my skin was redesigned.

“The happiness you brought here,

Is all you will ever find.”

My body now immodest,

A hint to where I’d been.

My tattoo was of less permanence,

Then materials incomprehensible to skin.

To me, a writer,

Words leave their own track.

Not to be overused,

Not something to take back.