Tattoo

tattooed her love for him
across the scar from
last month's daily torture.
a little yellow sun of
blonde - haired strength
rising gently over
blue - eyed skies to gaze into,
with two green hills of
perfect faces resting below
but he adopts the habit,
like so many others,
of stroking the shrine
she colored-in to him
and she bites harder every time
he never sees the river of blood.

he sees the river of fire
and he never thinks twice,
he just kisses his liar
and he bathes her in ice.

she models for his art
and he always paints-in pain
but he'll never see the heart
she has drowning in his reign.

he thinks that she can act,
that the tear is just a pose;
he doesn't see her face is stacked
for him alone as he hands her the rose

then one day she bites right through,
and scars over her tattoo