I got a three-dimensional
tattoo of your face on
my mouth.
The likeness is uncanny. It’s even to scale.
I thought it would be great
for those lonely hours when your
absence was most acute.
I could upturn your face to mine and
feign ignorance over
what has come to pass.
But it’s not the same.
The tattoo doesn’t know about the standards
of closed-eyed kissing
and
most days, people think I was born with two heads.
