Yearning For The Tattooed Sovereign

Your skin hidden, as I seek the canvas where your stories reside. Ink-stained chapters, where a touch of passion is embedded into my memories. 

Each moment my hand reaches for that memory, a touch of your soul. In absence, I trace the conplex stories that swirl in my playlist, making me believe I am whole. 

I miss the feel of my fingers, lost in your art, exploring your heart. Seeking the depths of your passionate heart, wishing for your laughter, which now just echoes in a vacant hall.

Your scent, a phantom, a nostalgic recall of the last time your sweet words spoke to mine.

I trace the lines of your tattoos in the dark, dreaming of the shadow next to me. We hold a silent conversations, a hopeful embrace that never arrives. Every curve of mine questions, a longing desire, as I yearn to be wrapped in your arms, a consuming fire.

Oh, tattooed lover, where have you gone?

Leaving me adrift, lost and alone, wishing that I could recreate the day I distanced myself from the stories you've etched on my heart. I yearn for the day when our paths cross with destiny, And our souls, once separated, can truly become the muses... the lover, the mother, the warrior, the magician, my love. My heart is sketched in ink, a story unfolding. I'm still dreaming of the day when our souls are no longer on canvas, alone

Barbara Christensen