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Ink Stains
Date: 2/14/2016, Categories: Love Poems, Author: elliotlacey31, Rating: 9, Source: LushStories
I keep the ink stains on my fingers, temporarily tattooed grooved loops examined when my pen no longer scrawls along the pages. I've written for hours on end, seeing if I've missed syllables, if the passages capture your surface or the infinite beauties breathing beneath. I've come to think of them as artifacts, untouched treasures just waiting to be unearthed by patient hands, studied with knowing fingertips. But the words I use at times may be walls, carefully woven metaphors framed around you, a pen's tip spiraling for years to try and say all the things I want you to know. The ink stains I won't wash away tonight stay on my skin as remnants that may lightly touch your face in the candlelight, you'll be able to read more about me in that one small moment than you will in the lines of novellas and sonnets. You tell me we can just learn together, that the pages will be something that you will hold on to like living mementos, that our surface only exists as a canvas to paint and write along. We'll let our colors spill together however they're meant to. We'll unearth one another in each touch for hours on end, capturing the infinite beauties swimming and joining together beneath the surface. It's knowing fingertips that crack the walls that words can build, crack the still earth below shaking legs, and frame us with the warmth my words have tried to translate. The ink stains will weather and wash away as all remnants are eventually meant to, the pages we make are in this soft candlelight, I'll be able to read you in the small moments that we barely have a language for.
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