i don't want my skin to be baby soft
or smooth like a child's
i want it to crinkle at the edges
to wear the reminders
of every single time i've smiled

i don't want my hands to look young
untainted, perfectly just so
i want them to demonstrate
years of work, decades of holding
the hands of others
and cleaning up the messes of life
forging a better world

i don't want my body to be unblemished
unbroken and crater-free
i want it to be broken in places
to have scars and tiny stories
woven into its tapestry
marks that tell of the way it has stretched
and bent, and cracked open
to let the light of the world
all the way in

i don't want to look perfect
i want to look like i've lived.