my eX sat up from where he was laying
on an old mattress
next to a big over-stuffed backpack
in the middle of the floor
in a cement walled room
adorned only by a small high window
with burglar bars on it.
.
he looked weary
as tho he’d been physically, and mentally, traveling
a rough, long, hard, and dusty journey.
he had on a dread-lock type hair covering wig
which slipped off to reveal tinfoil on his head
when he looked up at me.
.
his bare torso and arms were covered with interesting black ink tattoos
in a hieroglyphic and iconic style,
with a few words in various languages,
vague names, and a few dates interspersed
between maori & african & celtic motifs.
.
the body art started low on his waist,
wrapping & snaking up & around his chest and back
then splitting and traveling down each of his arms.
he revealed it was “his story”
and mumbled that the tattooing & the story were not finished ~ yet.
[please read more of this short faery-tale]