Just an intro to a story/poem that may or may not actualize.
And there is the first line.
With a shaking hand, he pretends it’s permanent--a tattoo among paper dolls.
Must be majestic, must be fit for a queen.
Careful now, for it mustn’t smudge, and it mustn’t crack
This will not be a temporary funeral, just a temporary death
and the grandeur feeling of perpetuating desire.
And there are the lips now, precariously shaded red.
The hair is sporadic, displayed like a forest of electricity.
It is fragile, really, this art.
So fragile that he’ll put it in a glass cage and save it from itself
And the monster can be let out when it’s ready
But he is ready now. And for this moment, he is an artist of persona.
Yes, for he can be permanent, a tattoo among paper dolls.
Please do not crack, please do not smudge
“Just remain intact,” he says.
“You would’ve made a beautiful girl.”