Inked Questions

Ink on my wrist, a permanent script,

A story of choices, of lines I’ve skipped.

The needle's sharp kiss, a vow once so bold,

Now it feels tangled, a tale that’s grown old.

I trace every curve, the colors bleed through,

What was once a bold promise now whispers of blue.

Love mingles with regret, a dance on my skin,

A question of meaning—did I lose or win?