under the skin.

it's embedded,
deep in my not-so-fair, not-so-pure flesh,
where black ink stains itself in words--
letters and punctuation marks;
(you always liked to pick on my grammar)

the ink flows in my veins and rewrites
the stories of you and me
on the torn, scribbled, dog-eared pages of my heart

no-one could forget the first time they meet you anyway

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Write your thoughts kindly, ... or at least as thoughtfully as you possibly could.