Tattoo You

I remember certain friends and loved ones; those whose storms of being bloomed with a lightning bold and bright enough to shatter tombstones into diamonds. I remember those tilt-a-whirl San Francisco nights; drinking, playing music, and busting all the bar clocks, trying to stop time. I remember the freezer burn of bad decisions; how I was scorched by cold-boned agonies until I learned how to become a brighter melody on sun’s tongue. Memories like those have tattooed me. Colored me with wonder. The tribal paint of my dreaming kin.

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