Tattoo

I don’t have one. But I have many friends who have decorated their skins with stories and anecdotes, of heartbreaks and of life’s milestones. Colorful flowers that remind her of her mother. A quill that illustrates his passion. The lyrics of a song, embedded to the surface of her being, wanting it to be the last…

Ours

Ours was a story of truth and denial A heady rush of something that came too late A vision of what could be, should be, wouldn’t be Ours was sweet, and tender, and over. See? Ours was a story of perfection Just take evolution off the equation. All I’ve ever wanted was the you of…