A soldier of ink and needles
I wear my art on my skin
my body, at birth, was a blank canvas
now it is a mosaic of life
from scars to freckles to stretch marks
to ink doodles on my wide thighs
I am nothing more than the story my skin tells of:
weathered and tough hands
delicate and long fingers
thin scars on my hips to the jagged tear
running up my stomach
careful planned life made in sadness
to wild free life triumphed on a whim
I am a soldier of skin
fighting for skin on mine
while I tell one story,
my skin tells a very different one
I wear my art on my body, and
I serve a mistress of ink and needles
she has made her mark on my skin
her story is of scratches and scars
and I am her sole soldier
fighting for her lasting mark
Jay Heslen - 2016
A poem written by a friend of mine.