"
Tattoo "
C. 96, Miriam M. Wynn
Like
a tattoo, you are painted, printed,
On my body, all over my soul;
Like a dream, your memory remains
Inside of me, inside my skin.
The flower of
you, the silken petals,
Are etched into my tender skin;
My delicate soul is soaked with you:
The memory of you is like my tattoo.
Body art is the
recognition of the fact
That I belong to you,
That I am owned by you,
Forever stamped by you . . .
Like a song echoing through the valleys of my aching heart,
You are presented in me,
An angelic chorus in me,
A precious operetta in me;
Your magnum opus
is what I am, you see,
A magic melody,
A helpless harmony,
An innocent tragedy--
But I am whole,
Your stamp forever marked on my helpless skin,
My tattoo:
I am forever burning within with the
Hot scent of you throughout my being.
My tattoo,
I love the persuasive spell of you,
The haunting passion of you,
The ferocious majesty of you . . .
My romantic melody,
I adore the thrill of you,
The stunning feel of you,
The irresistible touch of you--
And Oh! My darling,
sweet tattoo,
Remember that I am yours
For the gentle passion of the hours,
The exquisite dreams of lovers . . .
My darling angel
of light,
You give me peace through hard times,
You fill me with the breath of Spring
All fresh and sweet with tender feeling.
My lovely, breathless
tattoo,
I forever belong to you,
I willingly long for you,
For you are my forbidden taboo . . .
And upon my hungry skin
Are you
Eternally tattooed.
