Tat Dream

comments 5
Poetry
Never bought me 
Flowers so 
I inked them 
On my skin

A poppy full
Of red blood cries
A deep dark line
Of dreams

On shoulder blade
Some lilies try
To greatly
And darkly
Scream

Too large a span
Of life skin take
For bloom,
They never will

A bold blue dark
Aged butterfly
Some time ago
They covered, 
Still

Those flowers come
These flowers go
And spilled ink,
Flowers,
Stream

A new dark tat
One day will feed
My flower dream,
And some

More blooming
Wants
So on my skin,
With ink, 
A flower,
Spilled
 
Them flowers smile
Them flowers stream
Them flowers come,
I ink

And no more flowers
Wither
Will
For they are to
Bloom,
 
Tat
Dream

The Author

Woman. Floaty. Attached. Dettached. Sudden. Note-scribbler. Citizen of the world. Travelling to the moon and back.

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