It blots out even the worst mistakes,

It covers my left arm from shoulder to fingertip,

It has inspired this poem to come to be.

It is dark as night,

With either a blood red

Or midnight blue sheen in the light.

My life has been blotted out by ink,

And with it,

I write down every word I think.

It is a part of me, this ink.

It is common, yet I love it.

Almost as much as I love him.