"you’ve got a humming
he murmurs against your
chapped lips, mistaking your body
struggling to send
blood through its veins
as a reaction to his proximity.
he doesn’t know yet,
and you think you’d like to keep it that way.
he cradles your hands in his,
frigid fingertips pushing against
the sleeves of his hoodie. he thinks
it’s cute, the way you cling to him
in this weather. you think
it’s the only way you
can feel anywhere close to warm.
he still has no idea,
and you’re proud of yourself for hiding so well.
he frowns when you disappear for
twenty minutes after thanksgiving dinner,
a pale sheen to your face as his mother
offers you a slice of pumpkin pie.
"I think I’m okay," you say, but
it sounds hollow.
he questions you in the car ride home,
and you can’t help but feel like this is the end.
he kisses you
like you’re off to war,
because between the way
your hands shake and
your shoulder blades jut out
like angel wings
he worries that maybe you really are.
he knows, he knows,
it’s bittersweet irony,
the way you scrub at the stubborn ink,
reminding you of the way
she slipped under your skin
and settled down in your bones,
promising to stay
til she realized she couldn’t keep that promise
at least, not here
not like this.
you knew that making her stay
was like trying to catch
lightning — impossible
in the worst kind of way —
so you tattooed her over your heart
because you knew she’d come back,
that she was destined to be a part of you
it’s been three months since the last storm
and each night is as quiet
as the last,
but the memories are as strong
as the ink that stains your skin,
and try as you might,
you can’t wash them away.
maybe some tattoos
were meant to be temporary.
don’t blame me for things that aren’t my fault???
especially when I’m helping you and investing a hell of a lot of time in something that doesn’t even directly effect me????