The Mexican waiter takes my order, and I consider the Spanish that I have neglected

but he is confused. Perhaps, because he was sweeping the floors earlier

and he has mixed-up his job with somebody else. The big waitress walks over

with hips the size of drumsticks and calls me “Amigo.”

I get my food, and realize

how few friends, I actually have.

Many busy people might say that I have an empty life

I spend most of my time thinking

about what I don’t want to do, who I don’t want to talk to.

Some, may consider me a coward

but if I take action

on their behalf

I am a fool.

Of course, there are different cultures

that don’t consider people like me


because they have different values

that render my decisions (Definition of Decision: to cut-off all options in favor of one)


but I don’t consider my opinion subjective

for one reason…

I can’t have it all.

There is no such thing as priorities. That renders the word meaningless

because it suggests that multiple choices can be Number 1.

There is only one priority

one mission

one best friend.

Understanding what we care about

and who we are about

is the only way to live with purpose.

So many people

are like the impulsive girl

with 20 tattoos

Each word and symbol


the other.

This might seem to make a woman complex

but more often than not

she has a Complex.

She goes through life

making one impulsive decision

after another

based-on her feelings that change.

She is not complicated

but simple

All of her choices are superficial

like tattoos.

The ink

never goes to her heart

It only discolors her skin.

When the meaning

gets into your blood,

that’s when a person changes.

It can only happen

with an incision

a decision

a cut

into the heart of who you are

and you have to choose

what goes inside

or somebody else will.

They will harvest your organs

and leave you truly empty inside.

I won’t give my guts to anybody

I digest what matters to me

and the rest

belongs to somebody else.

22 thoughts on “The Ink Never Goes to Her Heart

  1. We all want to become someone else in times in our lives, but, we are born as our selves, with no escape until we’re dead, and so, we must, learn to get along with our own selves, or we risk, becoming, the lost, the unknown…

    Liked by 1 person

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