“What did you do on Armistice Night? My beloved is mine and I am his!”

“I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine. (Song of Solomon 6:3a)”

“I belong to my beloved, and my beloved is mine.”

“If you were close enough to her ruby-red lips you would hear her say, 'I will rise now and go about the city in the streets, and in the broad ways I will seek the one I love.' She is whispering that, and she whispers, 'By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth. Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth. My beloved is mine and I am his.”

“What is that?” I asked, squinting at the vertical symbols.“It’s Hebrew,” Travis smiled.“What does it mean?”“It says, ‘I belong to my beloved, and my beloved is mine.”My eyes darted to his. “You weren’t happy with just one tattoo, you had to get two?”“It’s something I always said I would do when I met The One. I met you…I went and got the tats.” His smile faded when he saw my expression. “You’re pissed, aren’t you?” he said, pulling his shirt down.”

“I'm my beloved's and my beloved is mine.”