The black ink curves over my
skin like a crouching tiger.
The pain is nothing compared to the open
wound that has settled in my heart.
My guardian angel with no wings
nor halo has given me the emptiness.
He sits on the silver-plated moon,
he keeps her company.

The ink has etched into my skin,
writing down his and my history.
Without him the Grim Reaper would
have harvested my life-flower long ago.

He held his hand over me when
I walked on broken glass.
He hummed lullabies when
the demons screamed their chants.
He wiped my tears away
when the mirror was distorted.
His presence played chess with
the ever oppressive solitude.

Now that he is gone, I am an easy
prey for the lions of the world.
I'm just a bunny,
my vegetables can scare nobody.
But he was also a bunny,
a bunny who fought to the last.
So the least I can do is fight so
he can see he did not fight in vain.

And if I ever feel lonely,
I'll just dive into the moonlight
where he resides.

Draw me in lines and shades,
Blue pen on blank pages.
Paint me on your skin,
All colorful swirls and edgy shapes.
Feel me with every puncture,
In and out on your chest.
Moan with me when you can’t tell,
If it’s pleasure or painful as hell.
Cage me in the lust of the flesh,
Tattoo me with the ink of your heart.

The tattoo on your shoulder

I have the feeling that I should apologize but for what ?
I was looking to run away to **** all my emotions and for that I need to hurt people so it can reach me and hurt me so badly that I can reborn.
In a way I am sorry in an other I don’t know ... did I even do that for me or for you? I rarely do emotional things for me.

What if you had told me: “let’a be friends” instead of: “help me and go **** yourself”. I wish I could have do better but I did not know how to do better so I do what I always do, I run away.

Now I can just hope you are fine and tell you I will never stop thinking “this is not over”.

You told me you will haunt me and you succeed. It’s like being sure it’s not over making everything to stop thinking and **** anything that’s left in you so it kills me.

In my dreams, we meet like in the song of Chainsmokers where I bite the tattoo on your shoulder and you have aged so well and nothing has been killed even if I tried my best to destroy anything I felt everything I feel.

Heart-Shaped Needle


The female form is perfect,
So why get a tattoo on your heart?
If you need to cover it up with art,
Then that is your wrong choice;
But now I am so far away from using my voice,
When in all other circumstances,
You and I would be dancers.


Waist could have been in arm, both totally naked,
Looking into each other’s eyes, never wanting to look away.
Now your eyes only see me walking away, I’m saying “**** it!”
‘tis such a shame that I cannot stay
And ask you out, because without doubt,
I could fall in love with you in all other realities,
But not in this one,
Because you want to get a new tattoo done.
So I am gone, lost in your painted sun.
I wish I could see past it,
But you and I are not the right fit.


If only I liked it, then we could unite,
But I have my own life and I live my own mind
And it tells me “no.”, keep on walking;
Go and watch the next show,
For she is in need of a pin cushion, jigsaw man, painted blue,
So you will never greet her ****
And say how do?
Even though she is so **** cute!


You only meet eighty percent of what you wanted,
So all is lost to nearly,
When she could have been the perfect fit.
Kama Sutra,
It sure was nice to meet ya.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Some choose
To tell their stories
She wears hers
On her skin