Imprinted upon my skin; your touch-
Dipped in ink, your hands
mark me.
Dipped in poison, your hands
mark my mind.
Your scowls have not taught me,
Your withering looks slipped past
Like dreams of yesterday.
I clutch at memories,
Watch them dissolve as smoke
Reminiscient of your fire.
Your shadow sits at my side,
And in its dark embrace
I find lost solace.
Though only your shade
remains,
and the rain has worn smooth
the paths your hands etched.
Bruises linger on
tattooed upon my soul,
The night skies in all their splendour
Of blues and indigos.
I wish that in your leave
You had torn at me,
Gouged holes of crimson,
For even the rivulets would dry,
And scars would heal.
The blossom of sharp pain
Would wither away,
Not haunt as a throbbing ache.
But alas, love is the bruise that fades
slowly in the light of day