Tattoo

I hold my emotions under this skin,
pierced and briefly opened to daylight.
A thinly scribed, imperfect cut of ink
draws you into me like an alphabet.

I attempt to make sense of emotion;
a hidden script of unspoken design,
you have performed this act without knowing.
I feel you draw and try to read the lines,

but the true meaning lies in the action
and there is no intellectual real.
You are the pattern within everything.
You are time, ink, blood; you are the needle.

You are written on me, you make no sense,
but when I feel, you are the evidence.