Inkless Tattoos

I love a good tattoo.

I love the story behind it. I want to know what made someone choose to have that particular moment, person, or truth forever marked on their skin.

I'm never disappointed by the answer.

I find the stories fascinating.

I've always wanted a tattoo, but I could never decide what would be meaningful enough. How could I possibly tell everything I'd want my ink to say?

My whole body could be a canvas for my stories.

Maybe it already is.

Maybe I have inkless tattoos.

Could I wrap one around my heart that tells the story of how many times it has broken, shattered, healed, and burst open again from holding a love so great it changed me?

Could I cover my lungs with one that remembers the seasons when life became so heavy I could barely breathe, alongside the deep, cleansing breaths I've taken in the places I've travelled? The breathless moments of beauty. The first breaths of my children.

Maybe the question isn't what tattoo could tell my story.

Maybe it's how I could ever choose just one.