Brand New Tattoo
It was 2 of the A.M.,
When I heard the ring,
Disturbing me abruptly,
From my deep slumbering,
Who could it be at this hour,
I was wondering,
Bothering,
Me?
“Hello?”
I said somewhat dreaming,
Politely streaming,
My serious discontent,
About how I was really bent,
To be awake,
Right now,
Over and over again,
It was like a break-up that just wouldn’t end,
Who could it be?
Finally, said the voice,
“It’s Me.”
I was young, single,
Careless and free,
I partied ’till sunight,
I danced in the breeze,
Furthermore,
My lifestyle simply did not permit,
Of such a,
Me.
“Do you realize that it’s almost 3?”
“Yes” was his answer.
Without any seeming sense of,
Hypocrisy,
Who in the hell was this,
He?
“It’s Roger.”
Roger?
I knew not one, two, but three,
All of them blocked,
One of which he might be.
“I think you’ve got the wrong number”
I replied still,
Sleepy.
“How could you forget?!”
He pleaded with me.
“I was the guy that you left,
In the dust,
I had deserved it,
In this you can trust.”
Was this that one asshole?
With the blue minibus?
It all seemed so hazy,
It was exactly six years,
Or two just maybe,
The he’d hit the asphalt,
My very own personal,
Slam-dunk Slim-Shady,
“Have you lost your mind?
Is this your twelfth step?
Or do you think you’re mistakenly calling,
Melinda Hammershlep?”
“I sent you a pic.”
I sighed with relief,
When I saw that it,
Was not,
Of his itsy-bitsy,
…. .
As I looked at my phone,
I hadn’t a clue,
Until it hit me,
‘Till I turned black and blue,
A photographed selfie,
Of his brand new,
Shiny,
Tattoo.
“Is this a joke?”
“No Dilara, it’s not.”
Damn.
He knew my name.
Now I was the one,
On the spot.
But that still didn’t change,
The incredibly deranged,
Thought,
Running through my mind,
Why on earth would anyone tattoo,
A festering turd,
On their forearm?
A poo?!
“I wanted to show you,
How what you said was so true,
So I knew you liked guys with tattoos,
And maybe that you would forgive and choose,
Me?”
Speechless, now sleepless,
I stuttered,
“I see.”
The next thing that came out of my mouth,
Was,
Surprisingly,
“I have to pee.”
And that was the last,
He would ever hear from me.
Shit.
That’s just,
It.
(Text Copyright Dilara Esengil 2014 All Rights Reserved)
Photo credit: Drawception
Categories: Uncategorized
Dilara Esengil 