birthmarks

i came away
from our conversation
with your words burned on my skin.
the marks left tattoos
in places where only shadows have been.
in times like these
you overcome by body
and my blood runs a little thicker.

in this corner
lies the secrets of my solitude,
where late-night workout sessions
find inspiration sparing with insomnia.

in that corner,
silence becomes an instrument
for spoken word soundscapes
and my voice
finds the music
that's hiding in notebook paper.

i come away
from our conversations
a little less light-headed,
a little more
naked
than before.

and i notice
people reading poems in my eyes,
trying to make out stories
from the ink on my skin.