Sometimes I suspect that it is my ultimate aspiration- unbeknownst to myself- to become a painted lady a’la Hef’s harem, but you know…permanently.


I get to see one of my favorite men this weekend.

And while I’m sure said male’s cup runneth over with awesomeness in various aspects of his life, the reason my heart, my body, my forever belongs to him in a more permanent than marriage kind of way? He’s my inky muse. Translation from Katie speak: He tattoos my temple.

I like to think of myself as his coloring book, a conscious compilation of doodles galore, a living representation of the inanity of the assumption that tattoos are forever when this life, this mortal vessel of bounding heart and bone- is nothing if not temporary.

My head is an infinite surplus of inky ideas, and already I lament the fact that my body’s finite canvas cannot provide the same.

I only hope I’m brave enough to become just what I want to be.


~ by rubylocks on September 1, 2010.

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