hicks

there’s a tattoo on my face

the one blooming pink and red across my face,

stained the exact shade of your mouth

after my lipstick found a new home on your lips.

Some say it's beautiful.

Some warn me to cover it up, afraid of jealous eyes,

of questions I can't answer without giving you away.

Others beg for the artist's name, want to know who could make permanence look this effortless.

i swore i'd never get one on my face yet here i am,

fascia muscles and brown skin unable to stop from tugging at the delicate corners of my tiny little mouth to show my tattoo,

without permission, without pause.

the smile that’s permanently etched on my lips because of you

the ghost of a smile that haunts a thousand men.

It haunts the men who came before you, ghosts them with proof that someone finally knew how to make me mean it.

it belongs to you

to me

to us.