The ballet tattoo. Your signature. The simple, unfinished line almost made me chuckle. Yet, it draws me most…as next to it, another simple line doodled into a pretty little girl. The little child, a blurry little child’s story written on your bare arm glittered by the syrup. Glittering. It was romantic, in a way, only for me. I feel like a little child. A very little child, looking at the sweet sweat clinging to your biceps. . I feel the excitement. In the dark deepest corner of my thought, I found you. Your sanity will kill me but I do not care. Like a sweet little child, I was trapped into your den. You have done this to many different faces and in different times, yet I care not.