The staining ink of your darkest Sharpie,
The bitter scent both relaxing and startling…
The gentle tug of felted tips and pen on skin…
Just rest my head down,
Let the shivers take me,
I wish you could experience something similar,
But I wouldn't know how to explain,
How wonderful it feels,
When I become your canvas.
Closing my eyes,
I listen to your steady breaths,
Your soft but precise movements on my skin,
My arm stretched across the cool wood,
My knuckles lightly touching your chest…
I think, if I lay still enough,
I can feel your heartbeat through my skin…
When you set that ink upon my skin,
I forget about everything bothering me,
Everything hurting me…
And let the shivers consume me,
When I become your canvas.