Week #18+19 - tattoos & piercings
Hi readers :)
Here’s what’s been going on this week.
🍒 this week’s writing
This week I’ve got two poems and a short essay for you all.
I wrote the first poem after one of my writing classes. I was thinking about my teacher and how she feels so much further ahead in life, I was looking at her as someone so much older and wiser. And then I realized we’re the same age. So I wrote about that feeling :)
Age up
We blow the same
number of candles
you and I.
Yet,
in my eyes,
you’re an adult
and I’m a child.
This second one is a bit more witchy, a bit more eerie… See, I’ve never related to the season I was born in, which apparently is not necessarily common I’ve been made aware! And this is about being a summer soul at heart - getting your energy from the sun, so many ideas from warm weather - and having a decidedly halloween body, one that only comes in two colours (white and red).
Summer makes you mine
I’m a summer soul
born on Halloween.
When the sun graces my skin,
freckles bloom
like flowers in a field.
When I go from white to burnt,
the red makes my eyes a deep blue,
you can no longer defy.
And that,
lover,
is the spell
a halloween child
with a summer soul
can cast.
Finally, this last piece is about my relationship to tattoos and piercings. The piece will tell you more about how while I love the art and the meaning, getting them started in part as a way to reclaim my body. So, of course I don't only get tattoos and piercings for others. A big part is for me - the beauty, the art, the deeper meaning. But I'll be honest, a big part also started out of anger (so much anger) and as a way for me to reclaim my body, a proof that no one else owns my skin. No wonder my first tattoo was one that says “furieusement libre” (furiously free).
Tattoos & piercings
Tattoos and piercings mean more than cosmetic change to me.
Body modifications have become a decisive way of reclaiming my own body. A claim to what’s always been mine, yet so many thought was theirs.
Every needle point on my skin is a message.
To the boyfriend who felt entitled to my body because we were dating, because I was his. The one who would switch the lights on and off to keep me from sleeping until I surrendered.
To the assholes who grabbed my ass or pushed me against a wall in a loud bar because they assumed I wore that dress for them. Yes, I look hot; yes it’s short; no you’ll never know what I’m like without it.
To the many who think they should get to decide what I do with my own body, because they love me, because they made me, because they’re men.
To them, every tattoo and piercing I get is a fuck you.
This isn’t the body you thought was yours.
This is a new skin.
One I made for myself.
💫 this week’s art
Just a couple pieces for you this week :) The first one is inspired by the words of hurricaneRebecca on instagram. The second is a reflection of my obsession with daisies (yes I know it’s not november, but aren’t those words pretty?).
And that’s a wrap! See you next time :)