Marks

Marks on my neck,

Where your lips ran wild;

Telltale marks-

that gave away our clandestine meetings.

Marks on my shoulders and

Way below my collarbone,

Where nothing except your eyes and mine reached;

sometimes your lips again, and my fingers-

reliving those moments.

Marks inside my lips,

So rare, so difficult-

that I was confident to go home with it.

Marks that faded from my skin

But got tattooed somewhere else,

Begging to be born again,

Maybe somewhere else,

But definitely from your lips alone.