I feel grief overhanging in the air, like ghosts on the streetlights of the roads you used to walk. ///
It's a little moody, the cuckoo clock you gave me on our six-month strong relationship. It rings at the strangest of times, like 3:46 am. When you sent me your last text. Telling me that we're done, finished like a painting you don't want to paint anymore. ////
Days have started to taste as stale as the bread with mold that I eat for breakfast. My perfume has become coffee and I write your name on corridors with the ash from my cigarettes.
/// Ice-capped mountains are melting. The cold finds it's home upon me like a blanket of snowflakes. The traces of your hand are awash but the warmth still alive like embers within me. ///
My face is wrinkled with seams similar to those on the folded pages of your favourite books that carry the words dearest to you. I feel I'm slowly turning into that book.
Tonight I've mixed rum and wine and coffee and all the spirits I could fetch to give me the same feeling as your presence gave. ///
With my eyes peeking into verses by Rumi and all the poets that could teach me the trials of love. I try to search for a speck of you in them. ///
With eyes swollen into cotton bales, I am writing you this letter without a clue about where to post it. Where do you live now? I wonder if you've found your ranch in the county or living by the coast of nowhere.
Take this letter as the interest of the investment of our memories. I hope my words fly to you like migrating birds. A symbol of the jubilant time of our lives.
I saw you at the bar today
the one we never went to
because it reminded me of a place I'd once known
and a nightmare that you were trying to escape
And even though we said we never would
I heard from a friend's friend
that you frequent the place now
First I wondered,
do you go there believing I will never come
or because you know me well enough
to know that I will?
So I walked past it's glass windows for 22 days
hoping to catch a glimpse of you
today I promised myself - that it would be the last time I tried
the universe has a cruel sense of humor, doesn't it?
because there you were
leaning on a bar stool - laughing
I couldn't hear you from this side of the window
but I heard that laugh anyway
it haunts my dreams sometimes
I want to come in too - and lean on the bar stool with you
My body remembers how to arc to fit your's like a puzzle
So let me come in babe,
let's drown in this alcohol - and stay there.
and when you introduce me as your friend
to that girl you sometimes kiss,
I will mourn a love
that was never mine to begin with.
How hard is to tattoo a family member or your girlfriend or friends?
This is the arm of my brother. It took me 18 years before i made a proper tattoo on him. He kept asking me for years and i never felt ready for it. Well now we did it.
Let me know your story about how you tattooed your mom or dad or getting into a never ending session tattooing your wife or husband!