Wrinkles

I can see where you’ve been happy. I can see where you have been serious and anxious. I can see where you’ve lived and where you’ve died. I can see where you have loved and where you’ve cried. I can see the map of you in your face and in your skin. Your beautiful face holds the frame of the perfect picture. We encourage the living but punish the tracks that are left. They’re trying to abolish our freedom of expression.

The years accumulated have been programmed to make you feel expired, done.

But what about the mistakes that have led you to greatness? What if there would be no recollection of who we’ve become. I wonder where these rules came from? I wonder if they were created so that we can get creative enough to break them.

I look at myself in the mirror and shame tries to take over. I should have found someone by now someone who understands. I take another look and a new line has drawn itself into my forehead. Should the first gray hair show itself before true love? I don’t know right from wrong.

All the secrets you’ve been trying to hide, unfold through your eyes into my soul. I don’t know why you’d want to erase the memories of you; the memories of me.

I hope someday I get to touch your face, imperfect at its best. I hope you appreciate the lines that have been left and know that I have smiled, I have cried, and have gone through Heaven and Hell to get here. I cried 1000 oceans only to find a single smile. And that one expression makes the hurt worth the fight.

I can see that you’ve lived and I can see all the no’s you went through to finally get that anticipated yes.

Never rid yourself of who you were, who you are and who you could become. It’s all a part of the learning and the growing; even if it takes a lifetime of marks to really understand.

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