my favorite poem

Her 6 Tattoos
Her 6 tattoos stood out like a Picasso,
like two hot to trot bodies moving as one.
It was beautiful.
The fur of the tiger glistened as she bent over,
to reveal her “Tramp stamp”.
It was silver, with red eyes and gold claws-
I wanted to touch it.
Just long enough to get close to the red lip print,
on the right side of her neck, and her name plastered
on the left.
Maybe I could replace those red lips with my own
and remove the N E S S A with my tongue.
I was tempted.
Vanessa rang bells as it rolled off her tongue,
or was it the pink bell painted on her breast,
contracting and expanding with every breath,
as if in a sense “ringing”.
The Rest In Peace on her right arm reminded me
of the death of my own child, and I could almost
imagine her child being my baby.
I wanted to lay down and do the dirty with her
so we could make our own, keeping her warm
and getting the fireworks in the room cracklin’,
running my fingers through her long hair.
But I like to just imagine.
The dragon on her ankle summoned me to fairytale lands.
Maybe one day I could be her knight in shining armor.