Lies, Lies, Lies

Lies, Lies, Lies

Tattoos are not permanent;

But do you know how long I’ve been trying to scrub this off?

It’s like trying to wash the scent of you out of my hair

Or the taste of you off my lips.

I bought a new perfume the other day

And I started smoking cigarettes

But you still linger on my body

Like this old tattoo.

I often think about where I went wrong.

I suppose it could be that I never went right.

And I’ve been trying to fix this mistake

Every day since I said goodbye;

Or maybe every day since I said hello,

Because I think that’s where I took a wrong turn.

The tattoo shop’s ‘Open’ sign

Was not an X on the map,

And engraving your initials on my hip

Was not the key to safe travels;

But sometimes,

The road to happiness is a disheveled walkway

With bricks and stones strewn all about,

And an occasional piece of glass that stabs through your flimsy shoe.

What a pain in the foot you are.

And I wish tattoos were not permanent.