Temporary Tattoo.

I’m a tissue that falls apart after too many tears.

A pedestal to stand on and get a better view.

I’m a tattoo in a crisis — full of emotion and aesthetics then but has no value now.

I play my part as a phase so well.

I know my role and my place — how to put a smile on your self-absorbed face.

It’s my comfort zone and my biggest resentment.

I don’t know what about me makes me temporary.

No matter the severity —

I can be your everything,

but only for awhile.

I’m the prettiest pencil who craves the permanence of a pen.

So I’ll ink my heart and carve your name in with a knife.

And when you’ve cried all your tears and seen better views.

When you’ve pretended I meant something with that God damn tattoo-

When I’ve been your Savior and patched up your wounds.

You have an eraser.

For where I penciled your heart.

But my heart beats different.

And I have a scar.

Like what you read? Give Alyssa Benson a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.