battle wounds

my brother got another tattoo. its his second. he got his first a few months ago. a Celtic symbol on his calf. he said it was just because he felt the time was right but i know its because he felt betrayed by a girl and wanted to have a scar he could see as well as feel. he wanted to remember how he had been changed by her. it is less a piece of art than a wound, a sore, a symbol of anger and hatred for a girl he would never have. looks pretty cool too.

the one he recently got is more elaborate, signaling an even more traumatic break up. it covers his whole shoulder, crawling down his tricep just long enough to peek out from a short sleeve shirt. it was supposed to be an angel, St. Michael, i believe, the one that slays your demons. but the tattoo artist refused to do a strict copy of the sketch and decided to take some liberties with it. so instead of a warm, protective face, it is a skull in a hood. the wings spread out wide and menacing, the sword he holds is dripping in blood. right now its just the outline, and hasnt been filled in yet, but when all is said and done, my brother will have the angel of death on his shoulders.

damn, that girl must have looked good.