Each touch, a needle hums beneath my skin,
etching electric marks of holy sin.
Ink spills like prayers from fingertips, dark blue,
carving stories only the body knew.

The lines vibrate, stretch thin to meet the bone,
mapping out all the places I have grown.
A life in fragments paved with every sting,
each puncture turning into something beautiful.

Once inked, I wear the burden like a prayer,
the...