I’m a little drunk so I should obviously post my inner thoughts on the most public of forums. This is meant to be Thursday’s post. I know I’m late.
Last night I dreamt of the love of my life (so far). It seems he features in my dreams every week or two these days. It used to be more. I used to be obsessed with him when we were young. He was my best friend’s brother’s best friend. You can only imagine the drama that ensued from me liking this boy. We were teenagers after all.
When I was 20 something (forgive my temporal deficiency) we stared dating and I was over the moon. He was tough as nails but sweet as honey. I won’t bore you with the details perhaps because I feel like if I share them with you there will be less for me and I want them all for myself.
While we were dating I started a tattoo on the back of my wrist that I only finished after we had broken up. (And then we got back together for a while)
It has been perhaps five years since I finished it and it is well faded. I did it with a needle and ink soaked thread. I like how messy it is cause we were messy people. We have our flaws and shortcomings but we managed to love each other so deeply. The left is for him; a fire ball: so powerful and wild and at times destructive. The right is me; flower blossoms: gentle and patient. The great thing was that we flowed together and sometimes I was wild and sometimes he was gentle. In truth we were more like a flaming bouquet.
I’ve heard stories of people who mark themselves with their lover’s name and later regret it. I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way about this tattoo. It was a part of my life I’ll always cherish and if I ever love again I expect that person will realize I have space enough in my heart to house the relics of the past and the dreams of tomorrow.