No, we couldn’t share you and couldn’t love you.
What we felt is now firmly in the past.
Your image in my soul is all I value,
And Alex had your image tattooed on his chest.

On that day, when we were parting at the station,
I swore to love you till the day I die.
And without even the slightest hesitation,
Alex added promptly “So will I.”

Now can you tell which one of us is tortured?
And who’s misery is greater - you decide!
On the outside he is scarred by your portrait.
And my soul is scarred on the inside.

So when I feel all bummed out and morose
(Oh please don’t let these words offend your grace)
I beg Alex to remove his clothes
And I stare for hours at your face.

But then another friend helped me prevail,
Using art to put my woes to rest:
He examined the tattoo in great detail
And inked its perfect copy on my chest.

Yes, with friends this subject is taboo.
But I love you so much more because of this:
My tattoo, that being your tattoo,
Looks much better and much lovelier than his.