my ink

notice it

take a look

right there, in the middle

but a bit to the left

a tattoo heart

a distance under my ribs

count to ten

and rip it off

a tortured soul deceives without a hint

a permanent state for a liar

darker than the ink

a needle marks the place

branded symbolic lies

crafty shaped

pushed against a wall,

a strong pulse

behind a weak will

a distance under my ribs

tattooed on a heart

that skinny yarning

that selfish need

unable to speak the truth,

so coated for warmth

around a lie

I cannot speak the truth

I don't know how

it's just darker

then I lead it to be

it's quiet inside

more than I want it to be

lies start

between rib number eight

and rib number nine

listen to me,

listen carefully, please

just close your eyes

and listen to the slow heartbeats

between the fast lies