Tattoo
He swirls his sword across my skin
He walks on a thin line between pain and pleasure
Its pure...
Almost like an angel...
Dark winged.
Bold and deep...
It kills me when he stops
My heart bangs against my chest as my mind goes blank
Is this what love is?
The need for his sword against my sore skin consumes my judgment
Leaving me with nothing but...
Warmth?
The point digs a little deeper,
Taking my breath away...
I swallow his lingering scent in the air,
I don't want him to leave,
So he will stay within the four walls of my mind...
He finishes his art piece,
My eyes roll back in pure satisfaction
The ink has dried...
My beautiful rose garden is forever ingraved on these walls
YOU ARE READING
When The World Stops Spinning: Poetry & Short Stories
RandomWhen the World Stops Spinning is random pieces of work that I had in my journal and thought, "Why not post it?" *Laughs* I hope you enjoy it and leave comments on what you think*. Also, tell your friends, family, hell, even your followers about this...
