Your works I adore, there was a time
when I would implore, hold enough
you bear fruit galore, spirals and flowers and words, can you say more.
Birds of all manner, trees, and mighty implements of war, regardless of these it’s your soft skin I want more;
to touch, breathe upon, enjoy it through taste, painted or plain for goodness sake.
It is you sweet treasure, who answers my hearts desire, love is the bog in which I am contentedly mired.
People stand upon soap boxes and condemn and provoke, love is more powerful than pointing and jokes.
Wounded feelings give way to fierce pride, what the hey, let’s add a customized ride; forget that, lets opt for an awesome machine, how bout’ a battleship in a bubble bath of green.
There are times before my eyes some of the tats best beauty comes when the owner must hide, a peek of color is exciting to see, coupled with soft skin what an amorous scene.
Painted Princess, I would serve you anywhere, whether tattooed or not
hearts desire you set it on fire, with the strength of your mind, your moments of weakness, your determined stance; life’s eloquent dance, mark my heart in an instant;
Yet, when I hold you darling tatted lady
you are forever, my painted princess.