I want to get tattooed someday
Maybe it's masochism
Maybe it's self love
Covering up my scars or
Painting on my body
Showing myself that I am something that can be beautiful
Skin is canvas
In the sense that it weathers
Changes over time
Bears the cloth of the owner's actions
But it is not canvas
It does not exist solely to be impressed upon
Skin holds the soul
Binds together our flesh and bones
So what if I paint it
Blue and black and bleeding red
A pattern of roses across my chest
It's just another tale
Another consequence of my actions
Stitched into my physicality
Like freckles and moles and stretch marks
If it helps me love myself, then what's the point?