Writing on you (Day 633)

Today, I am writing on you, 

my pen’s nib pillowing into 

your soft skin, a tiny puddle 

of ink, hardly more than a speck, 

dots the hollow of your throat, 

where my thumb fits, just so, 

the skin soft and tender, 

anticipating my touch. 

My line curves from the corner 

of your eye, to the side 

of your mouth that quirks up 

just before you smile. 

Across the firm expanse of your 

back, my signature, a spider's 

web, intertwined with leaves and 

vines, the faintest scar. 

Then, where a flower might bloom, 

I allow my pen to linger, and slowly, 

carefully add your name to mine.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Prehistoric hand stencils at the Cuevas 

de las Manos upon Río Pinturas, near the town of 

Perito Moreno in Santa Cruz Province, Argentina.

Mariano (CC BY-SA 3.0)/Wikimedia Commons