One Day

One day
you’ll find that
polaroid shot of us.
You’ll notice the faint;
ghost-like, tyre tracked
skin, belonging to me.
Marvel and ponder at
how bodies are left behind.
You’ll study the curve
of my neck, which could
have been pristine porcelain,
but was damaged by your
contact.

You’ll trace the
microscopic love-bites
your trade mark lips
left- follow the
purple-pink bruises,
moth shaped leaping
from your angry, love
drunk hands, threatening
to contain their delicate wings.
You’ll see-
the weight of your love
tattooed across my skin.