I have one tattoo, which I got when I was nineteen years old. It’s on my hip, it’s hidden, and to be quite honest has been ripped apart by my two pregnancies. It took me a long time to decide what to imprint on myself and where. We don’t need to get into my tattoo or what it means or whatever, but I will tell you that the runner up was a poem by Emily Dickinson, which I wanted tattooed on my shoulder blade. Continue reading “My Favorite Poem”
The Sensitive, Bookish Type 