Fleeting
In bed
their tattoos met
and bled.
Ink-kissed
lovers, knowing
their tryst,
night-born
would live to die
with dawn.
Ryan Stone

Fleeting
In bed
their tattoos met
and bled.
Ink-kissed
lovers, knowing
their tryst,
night-born
would live to die
with dawn.
Ryan Stone
Great use of figurative language in this piece, Ryan and a fantastic example of a Musette…so glad you took time to write one ๐
Super sexy and hot. Nicely done. And thanks for rekindling my deep desire to ink myself, well not myself, to get inked. I love water colour tats but my Mexican says he’ll divorce me, lol. He’s a bit conservative when it comes to tats. I want the South African saying for empathy “Strongs” inked somewhere, likely on my wrist. I was also thinking of an anchor. Are you inked vecino?
Somehow I stumbled back here.. Fleeting – is really a word I have used a lot and this poem resonates with this feeling.
Personification is superb and the expected melancholia congeals my veins… sigh..
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