more to come

the pages to follow are blank
as the previous ones were
before i tattooed pieces
of my self steadily
nightly onto them

each word tapping out time
to the beat of my heart
each inky line flowing
into a rough outline
the beginning
of a portrait
of a self
in flux

i try to hide

the optimist
by verbalizing what can go wrong

the idealist
by being practical and grounded

the romantic
by writing these words in secret