Dandelion Tattoo Birds Meaning Novels & Stories

I like it because when the wind blows, the petals of these perennial weeds are blown away. "Do you know what makes a dandelion special?" He asked. "Because, it is very similar to you...." I smiled without looking at him. " Even whispering we understand each other. I heard his footsteps towards me. What does he think I don't search about the meanings of the things I like. I have already searched for that on g****e! "The yellow one's of those dandelions, illustrates the sun...." He continued walking. "Those dispersing seeds of it, represent the stars...."

Dylan had a long history with so many people and then I realized how he operated… he made more friends than enemies and as for enemies, he made sure to kill every last of them that there would be no one to hold a grudge against. Classic him. “What kind of tattoo do you want, Mr Xavier?” I didn't realize someone was standing before us. “What do you think I should do, milkweed?” He asked his voice in a low gruff. “I don't know, a rose? Or a bird…” I let my voice trail trying to think of something meaningful. “I love birds, freedom, flight, survival and a will to live, poetic but true” I shut my eyes and opened them, my heart skipped two beats in half a second… I was falling deeply for this man

Commanding. My lungs finally obeyed. Air rushed out of my mouth as I inhaled sharply. But I still could not open my eyes. Not yet. His presence was overwhelming. “What tattoo do you have here?” His voice came again. Soft. Curious. His thumb traced the spot just beneath my breast. My eyes flew open. Oh. He was talking about my tattoo. Three small birds. And a feather beneath them. A symbol of freedom I had gotten in college. His thumb continued to brush over the design slowly.

I'm still in my pre-wakeup state, and my brain hasn't adjusted to reality. Jayden takes my hands in his. “What's this?” He asked, referring to the dandelion symbol that had been imprinted on my hands. “Did you get a tattoo?” I chuckled and filled him in on how I got the tattoo, and what happened when I went to see my father, including what he had told me. “Interesting. So this Versant guy has a crush on you or what?” He asked when I was done. I could hear the jealousy in his voice, and it pleased me.

The yellow eyed bird had its head pushed gently on the chest of the other. On another poster sat a stoic black cat in front of a smokey, whispy background. An Egyptian beaded collar and cartouch hung over its neck and shoulders. The words, 'I get easily distracted by cats and tattoos' split above and below the image. Elena snorted softly to herself. 'I bet she does get distracted by tattoos on a... NO! No. No, no, no, no. I'm not going down that route again.' She smirked, 'But gawd do I miss those lips and hands all over my body.'

“I wish I’d tried harder.” Addison had remembered her brother’s delighted laughter that she’d never heard enough of. She’d thought of his wickedly amused gray eyes, so much brighter and more alive than hers, and then, sometimes, so much duller. She thought of his too-lean form, his shaggy dark hair, his poet’s hands, and the tattoo on his shoulder of two hummingbirds that was, he’d once said with his cheeky grin, ‘meant to represent the two of them, free and in flight, forever’.

I pulled the fabric away, exposing his chest to my eyes. His chest was covered in tattoos, and I ran my fingers over them, wondering what they meant. “This one—tell me, what does it mean?” I asked in a whisper, pointing to a tattoo of a bird flying on the left side of his chest. “The bird represents my freedom. I got it a week after I went to military camp; it reminds me of freedom,” he said, holding my face gently. I rested my cheek in his palm, locking eyes with him. “You’re turning me on, you know that?” he said, and I pressed my body closer to his.

It made me want to reach out and trace the hard lines as well as the tattoos on it. He turned slightly and I caught sight of the rest of his body. The tattoo also covered the left side of his chest, black ink used to drag large wings. It was a raven, it was so detailed down to the sharp talons and the glint of its beady eyes. There were other drawings like a rose with the letter “E”. What does that mean? Family? Or perhaps..a lover? For some reason that thought made me bitter. Beneath it was a phrase written in Latin that flowed into his ribs.

, I keep running after all. I ran to a tattoo shop, and said to a tattoo artist, “I want this one.” The tattoo artist glanced at my wrist. “A broken-wing bird?” “Yes.” “Are you sure? It’s… kind of symbolic.” “I know what it means.” He studied for a moment then said, “Alright.” The needle pressed into my skin, it hurt, but I didn’t move.

My blush deepened, burying half my face into the duvet as if that would hide it. My mind drifted back to his tattoo. “What inspired your bird tattoo? Been staring at it all morning.” I asked softly. His eyes softened. “The need to be free,” he answered. “To break out. To stop feeling chained.” I smiled. “I’d never been a fan of tattoos… but I love them on you.” He studied my face for a long second, then said quietly, “And I love you with me.” My heart fluttered violently. I didn’t dare speak. I simply curled closer to him, resting my head against his shoulder, letting his warmth soak into me.