Tattooed

I want to tattoo memories onto my skin.

I wish there was a way to record every moment;
ink it into my subconscious so deep it will never fade,
never soften with age and time,
never become lost or hard to find.

If there were a way, every place I have ever been
would find a home on my skin so that I might look at it
every day. Renew the memories until they aren't just
moments I remember, but moments that I live again and again.

My body would be a map. A legend to find one's way
around the hard times and the beautiful days. A piece
of roaming landmarks and time. A way to keep track of 
where my soul has left pieces; where I have wandered.

My body would be a story. One that did not need unraveling,
unveiling, uncovering. My skin turned into pages, ripe
for discovery and learning. A testament to my life, to my
paradises, my purgatories, my halls of hell.

The ink would never dissolve, the dreams and desires never
fade. I would sew my heart together with lines from poetry,
tattoo the face of the moon into my chest and make the edges
jagged enough to show the wounds I have felt.

Can you tattoo the scent of the ocean into my nose?
The feeling of the rain cascading through my hair?
Is there a way to imprint the sound of thunder in my veins,
stain the lightning across my chest?

Is there a way to carry my memories on my body?
Give them a physical weight, make them vibrant against the
canvas of my flesh? A way to trail the tears down my landscape
so that they puddle into nothingness about my feet?

If there is a way, tattoo your song into my wrists.