Tattoo
The million tiny needles that pierced my skin again and again when I thought of you didn't leave a scar; they left a tattoo.
Beautiful, colourful, permanent, painful,
A million pricks,
An infinity of stinging,
Right over my heart, and yet.
Somehow, I still can't say I regret the tattoo when people ask me,
Because if I were to remove it,
That would feel like saying goodbye to the very last piece I have of you.














