Do you want a tattoo?
DATE 9 : 24 : 18 : 6 : 46 PM
At 18, some teens smoke, some teens drink, some teens have sex, some teens dabble in drugs, some teens are in relationships, some teens throw parties, some teens go to parties, some teens.
Teens become adults.
At 18, every sum of those some teens become adults. Then, the just become adults that smoke, adults that drink, adults that have sex.
I am 18.
I haven't done anything.
So I did something.
I learned to dance.
Saturday I birthed a peach onto my body.
Home-grown.
Natural birth.
Sewing on the lines.
Wiping away the tears.
Whispering it will be alright, when it stung.
No tears were falling from my eyes.
They were falling from my baby.
The tears weren't blue, nor blood. Black.
But, I knew I did it out of love.
The symbolism of a peach.
Stuck with me, some much it grew inside me.
Now it blossomed outside.
My peach blossom luck.
Hardwork, reaping what one sows.
I'm proud of it, proud of her, proud of him.
He is mine.
And, he's home-grown.
Soon he'll grow up and go on home.
Who knows how long the peach will stay on my skin.
All I know is that I want a professional done.
I know what I have is an amateur.
But, I did it, and no one will ever know, nor expect it.
You'll never find it.
If you do, you would've have found me under the covers.
Undercover.
This is my first decision as an adult.
Will I come to regret it?
