Tattoos of Our Hearts

You said "Maybe your tattoos would feel more comfortable

Whispering their meaning against my lips."

And as your gaze met mine, I knew

That this moment was more than just a simple quip.

For on my skin, I wear the stories,

The chapters of my life etched in ink,

Each piece a part of a narrative,

Of joy and pain and everything in between.

The first was a symbol of freedom,

A reminder that I am my own,

That I am not defined by anyone else,

Not by my past and not by my home.

The second was a tribute to my mother,

Who was nothing but a mere dream,

I fought to give me the life I deserved,

To uplift me, so I could spread my wings.

And with each stroke of the needle,

I added another to my canvas,

Each one telling its own tale,

Of love and loss and life's advances.

So I let you trace the lines of my tattoos,

As your lips danced softly against my skin,

And as you listened to their whispers,

You heard the stories from within.

With tender touch, your fingers caressed,

Every curve and every bend,

And as you explored my tattoos,

You explored my heart as a friend.

For what lies beneath the surface,

Is more than meets the eye,

And though my tattoos are but one layer,

They reveal my soul, the where and why.

So to you, my dear friend,

I share my tattoos with care,

For they are not just a work of art,

But pieces of my heart that I wear.