ink on my skin
you see
ink on my skin
i see
a story
a novel
pathways chosen
and lessons learned
you see
a pretty design
i see
depth
meaning
treasures
you see
swirls and lines
i see
my whakapapa
babies
sisters
tūpuna
ones i’ve loved
ones who are gone
you see
a poor choice
i see
achievement
recognition
a celebration
you see
defilement
i see
my iwi
my reo
my identity
you see
ink on my skin
i see
me
gorgeous
you just dropped that word in there
true, you were referring to something i said
by but extension you were still attributing
gorgeous
to me
gorgeous
you said you can see the elements of
carving
in my face
i can taste poetry in
the sweetness of your tongue
and the salt on your brow
can feel it in our fingers intertwined
you’ve started to take pleasure in
tickling me
you were keeping count of
the number of times
you had made me laugh
what’s that about?
you seem so peacefully resigned
to the fact that this
won’t last
i’m much less content to accept that
i don’t think this level of caring
and tenderness
and acceptance
is so easy to come by
it should be fought for
not let to slip away
because of
technicalities
complications
its gorgeous
what we have
gorgeous
wants, needs and realities
it's 3am and i can't sleep
your kisses are still telling me lies
i crave
i recoil, resist.
succumb.
and i wish for more
lying kisses
to tell me
the things i want to hear
that i know you don’t mean
your hands travel
up and down my spine
with honorably disingenuine tenderness
and i sigh
and i moan
and i kiss your neck
and i wonder... could you lie to me some more now?
oil slick and satisfied
your lies weren't yours they were mine
and now that i'm listening
i come
to a conclusion:
we're just the same
needing
wanting
incomplete
so i'll complete you
and you'll comfort me
and we'll sweat
and bask
and i'll pretend
that He's
got nothing to do with it
Seriously.
These are the things you said to me today:
You’re right, you said.
You do look stunning.
They suit you, you said.
You’ve got the figure for it.
They won’t be listening, you said.
They’ll be too busy looking at your legs.
You’ve earned it, you said.
You’ve worked hard for it.
You have the skills
and the networks.
The relationships.
You deserve it, you said.
You’ve grown wings, haven’t you? You said.
But the best thing you said
—the thing I nearly missed cos you were laughing when you said it—
was this:
Your wairua
matches your āhua.
I thought it this morning, you said,
but didn’t get a chance to tell you.
These are the things you said to me today.
Just today.
And you cooked me dinner.
Seriously.
