Late Night Ramblings

....It's late.

The kids have been asleep for hours

and the buzz of the tattoo machine could lull me to sleep

if the lines on my skin weren't so painful.

Florence + the Machine plays in the background-

lifting me up, providing my peace,

chasing away the devil in me.

I keep trying to hold my head up

but some days I'm just tired of trying

and I want to throw in the towel 

but there isn't a clean one

to throw anywhere.

Tattoos are my escape, 

my meditation, my passion. 

My ink tells stories of love and memories and reminders to be strong-

because at times strength leaves my hands,

leaving the darkness to set in

and stormy waves crashing in my days

when i'd much rather them be sunny.

I think of what made me-

dirt roads and midnight drives,

scribbling poetry on napkins at the coffee shop late at night.

The first apartment where I lived alone

in the third story of a historic building above one of the many town bars,

where I could lay on the floor to hear the echo of the bands playing below.

The music spoke to me-

inspiration was abundant in that studio with the fire escape

that holds many memories of snowy night guitar serenades

and English tea and sleepless nights..

and heartbreak. 

In this home i am surrounded by love and light,

the faces of my babies, the calls of 'mommy',

the late-night talks and cuddles a reminder of just how sweet life is

with the hum of the tattoo machine at my ear. 

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