Inked

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The Ink with which my soul pens, on the parchment that is my mind
The scarlet that courses my veins, a life force so kind
To enter my heart and mend its scars
To make a promise, to never be  far

The Ink that filled my empty well so that I may pen
Words that have been longing for release since when
You have entered my life, that fateful day
And dawned happiness to my pitch black mind, as you looked my way

Your Ink be may dark to the others who behold
Your intricate designs that render on my body; untold
Are the workings of how you sketch joyful pictures in my soul
Filling colours into the spaces of my heart, making it whole

Every stroke you lay down with your Ink so bold
Warms every inch of my skin, so cold
It was before your loving touch did thaw
Me out of the grip of Sadness' cold maw

Your name I shall imprint along the great vessels to my mind
For you are the thoughts that fill it
Fill me up to my brim and push out Nimbus that hangs
And silence the storms that come with

Paint in it a vibrant picture, of a countryside so serene
Of a clear sky and a lovely horizon, filled with green in between
Of a little hut in the yonder, where we shall stay
Where in your loving arms, I shall spend all my time away.

This Ink so vibrant, so colourful and bright
And in your hands, every picture sketched is so right
Your strokes are masterful, resonating of perfection
Inka, in your hands I have attained ressurection.






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