Your tattoos
are places I venture
often
intimately
with my finger tip
(if I’m conservative).
I no longer ask you
the meaning of your
tattoos.
Those stories are impressed
on to the surface
of my soul,
like the way you
watch me trace the inked details of your skin.
I look
to meet
your eyes.
Your smile
that smile
of want and now
and
we lean in
to this morning
ritual
of
your top lip
between my lips
then
switch…
Canela Ajena 