Private Tattoo's

Using the last bit of ink
you start to caress
my bare skin
getting it ready
for the slow pressure
of cold metal
sliding between valleys
of pure skin
closing my eyes
i feel your hand
slide
increasing
the movement each time
i begin to sigh
loving the new designs
displayed
i realize this is my body
mine
running out of ink
feeling the "grunt" of the needle
stop
i begin to realize  my crime
this entire time
there was no
artist
no gun
pressing against my thigh
it was my own thoughts
my hands
twisting the sheets
toying with my mind....




(I'm not sure if this poem wasn't meant to be sexual i just followed my emotions and went with the flow)