Wet Ink Poem by Armadillo Poet

There's a pleasure watching ink dry
Just that moment when, if you touch,
The words blot on the page
And the feeling behind the words
Stains your fingertips

Someone who reads the lines
Gets lost, trying to interpret
What looks like the black venom
Of a crushed bee

On the other hand
The poet's smudge
Is a riddle bringing
The pleasure of secrets
Only to them

So learning the words
Behind smiles
Is a good pleasure

But more so when they're
From someone who's written them
Somewhere secret on their body

Sharing those words
Feels really good

Maybe one day