The ink on my ankle
no longer burns,
while
salty on my cheeks,
blue in blacklight,
forty-some streams
scald things I would tell you,
but never will.
Easier,
now,
to leave silent
and unseen,
sweetarts and cupcake
Supe-man and Strawberry pie
Lego cowboy, medium rare t-bones,
stories read and misunderstood.
Tattoos and piercings
are mutilations
that stay forever,
and I shouldn’t let them,
but here they lie
against skin and soul and Self,
along with
some other broken appliances
wishing to be fixed.
~LD
* * *
P.S. No post script today. Have a great weekend. ~LD
Inky Highway Oasis 
Uniquely masterful. Not a rabid fan of your writing, but it does deserve respect. This is one that stands alone. Well done