Inked

I prefer my emotional baggage internalized

Not overinked on my skin

If I had a tattoo for every love and passion

I’ve ever held and lost I’d be invisible

Beneath the burden of faded colors

That would blanket me with memory

Of past infatuations

Issues that are so last year

Dead ends

Sad partings

So my canvas is fresh enough

For your fingertips to trace new works

With the impermanence of yesterday

Brush me with your art

That leaves no reminders

Secure enough in its own truth

To need no signpost for the destination

David Trudel  © 2013