The tattoo
that I got
long ago,
faded now,
I can still feel
the scarring
of it's design.
The colors
dim
edges blurred
hardly
do I remember
why
I felt
compelled
to announce
to anyone
who saw me
shirtless
that you
were
mine forever.
Fat throwback
Sailor Jerry
letters pricked
into skin.
I touch it
tracing the path
of late night
artist's
staccato hand
thinking back
to your smiling
freckled face.
Eighteen
fresh from home
full of
expectation
and rebellion
ready to prove
yourself and
trust me.
You are long gone
now, but the
scar, and memory
remain, linger
as dust motes
float upward
in sunbeams
slashing a
motel comforter
and a yellowed
photograph of
that other time
when we were us
and two kids
walked
arm in arm
in sidewalk's
neon glow
ready
to take on
the world.
