In a whirlwind of serendipity, I met a captivating woman who shared my grandmother's name and bore the tattoo I had longed for. In my fervor to make her mine, I rushed headlong into love's embrace, neglecting the art of mystery. She, like a skittish cheetah, which ironically was tattooed on her leg, couldn't sit still, entertaining other suitors while I craved her exclusive attention. Our love became a tempestuous dance, marked by my urgency and her elusiveness, a bittersweet symphony of desire and departure, leaving behind the echoes of a love that might have been, like a ghost haunting the corridors of my heart. She tore through me like a TIGERmore