Ink

My eyes are tattooed with the ink of your skin
images, shapes are all just a guise
for the visage of you that makes my heart sing,
Love and obsession are much the same thing.

Your hair is knotted with grease and grey matter
synapse fire I can feel in my chest,
feel your heart beat, inhale your sweet cream colored scent
though I left thousands of miles to lie
westward between us
as you set in the east,
bedding your Venus right beneath the blankets of snow
I can't melt
no matter how hot I think am.
I can not touch, and I can not look
because you're design is inked in everything I see
Your curves lounge in every shape and shadow
Your laugh in every crowded hallway,
My thoughts have been branded with your silky iron.

It might just be really bad timing,
but you and me, we could've been something physical,
visceral; two dogs in heat with no catch between us,
no pounds except the pound of flesh
pounding in our chests as we pound each other
into happy oblivion.
You the fire, I the smoke.
Tangled up and awash in orange glow
hot with your heat
as you writhe beneath
pushing me up into the sky

Paws without rabbits,
Honey without bees,
Ink without paper.
I can paint you razor blade incisions without blood,
just the scarlet flush of pain and pleasure
slithering up your back until it overtakes your tongue singing
the ecstatic white rolling through your eyes out the top of your head
and back down to rest in the nape of your neck
while you recoil to strike again.

You-me
knock-down
drag-out
no rules and no holds barred.
Hit me so hard that when it's all over I can still taste your blood in my mouth.
One for the ages.
You,
Girl,
Snake,
Eden,
Woman.

My eyes are tattooed with the ink of your skin,
colors and shapes are all just a guise
For the image of you that makes my heart sing
Love and obsession are much the same thing.