Still " Worn Like A Tattoo"


Worn Like A Tattoo


" Worn Like A Tattoo"
She sat up all night covered in roses, dirt collecting her shoes. In between her secrets she hid cigarettes and loose change. In between two blue couches she left her soul. Into the woods she swam until it became an ocean. Melting popsicles slushed on their sticks. Her eyes rolled behind her head underneath a pair of sunglasses, elegantly lowered like windows on a Beamer. Words were slapped across her face and arms. Splattered in violin music to accompany her blood as she laughed until it became a song. Sung by schoolyard children, slurred at bars, spoken in restaurants. Still playing on a dead man's phonograph scratching away at his blue knee. She ran until nothing was big or good enough. Finding her in disguise, I picked up pieces of what she once waltzed in Rome. Embracing him like a European lover she left down the street. Sold like magazines, tossed like coins, worn like a tattoo, fucked like tomorow. When you take her hand petals soften her tongue. Leave her love on the table next to her drink. This round is on you.
- Danielle Agnello-

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