He sees her flesh - pale and untouched
Like alabaster and lotus petals.
She shivers – not with cold but
Anticipation at what is to come.
He will touch her - change her forever.
She smells disinfectant and hears
The needle’s buzz. She feels
His hand on her buttock, gently
Wiping her skin. Then the pain starts,
Sudden at first. A necessary pain.
Afterwards he’s pleased with himself,
With his art, with his tenderness.
He looks again at alabaster and lotus petals,
Sullied with ink and blood.
He hopes she has No regrets. So many regret the first time.
After various cancellations due to life and snow getting in the way, I am sitting for the first part of a new backpiece the week after next. It will be the beginnings of tattoo number 7. Each tattoo means something to me, tells a story of its own. Each one is a piece of art that I carry with me wherever I go.
I am always interested in thoughts on bodyart. Do you have a tattoo dear reader? Why or why not?