Ink-etched skin, a canvas on display,
Bound by ropes that pierce through bone and vein,
Her body's arc, an ecstatic flight away,
From earth's embrace into the void unknown.
Red hair cascades like blood against her frame,
A stark contrast to this daring game,
Of life suspended in the space between,
Ink, skin, air - a dance that defies the scene.
Tattoos tell tales of stories untold,
Each mark a memory, each line a bold hold.
In flight with ropes and ink, she soars aloft,
A red-haired ballerina in this pierced poem for eyes.