Indelible

I saw this tattoo, this image and it struck me.  The irony of a water color tattoo, the scribbled image of beauty, the contrast against the pale skin.   I loved it. I loved coloring outside the lines. I love the remarkable study of an arm discolored. I love the idea of questioning "why did you choose this?"

I'm coming to realize that I am more of an artist than anything else. Your portrait hangs in the galleries of my mind. And yet these are not posed shots or serious studies. These are snippets. Cropped shots. They are a Kodak moment in my permanent ink mind. Irreversible.  Cave man drawings to last a millennium. To be studied by men way smarter than I. But I will always recall the remarkable beauty of you, the clash of colors of you and the ink spot unnamed crayons of you that alit upon me like an unleashed tattooist needle that carved into me a scenery I so gladly wore. And if...if I had to simply and indelibly describe it to a sketch artist or to a stranger, I think your palette stained upon me in such gorgeous visage would look faintly, barely and perhaps exactly like this photo above. Brilliant. Incandescent. Bold. Scribbled. Unmatched. Unequaled. Irreverent. Irreplaceable. Exotic. Enticing. Visceral. Violating. Trailing off in the end, the way you colored me in such brights and bruises only to spill away, trickle away, leaving a slightly darkened trail in your retreat from the kaleidoscope that you created.  Staining me in your colors that I wore in your absence.