My name on your hand; it looks nice there. My writing is terrible but it's the sentiment I like. Permanent marker although I know it will probably come off after a few showers. For now it's good enough. What matters is I wrote it and you let me; you wanted it. My name in a heart, just on top your wrist, curving across the base of your thumb. One day I want to make it more permanent. An ink scar that will last forever, just so you'll always look at it and remember you love me. Not that I think you need the memo. You tell me enough times in the day as is.
One day, maybe, I'd like your name marked on my skin too. Maybe on my neck, right where you're planting those soft kisses now. Philip Lester; a name as harmonious as the gentle caresses you give, letting your fingers run fluidly across everywhere you can reach, melodic. I know the sting of the needle as we make these little confessions engrained in our skin won't be nearly as nice as the tingle down my spine when you kiss me, but for you, any pain is worth it.
I am committed to you, as you are to me and to me, the thought of letting you brand me as your own is something quite beautiful. As your name will be tattooed across my skin, your love shall be tattooed across my heart.