Every wrinkle is a story untold;
A memory pulling at your skin
Wanting to reside there forever.
So many girls try to cover up their past
With cheap foundation
And other various products
Instead of accepting who they were
And who they are now.
We all need to learn to
Embrace our past,
And wear it with pride
In our futures.
I never knew a song
to have eyes
Never knew a song
to look back
To sing, without a single word set free
To fill me to the brim with music
To shimmer and shake
Consumed with stories
Stumbling over one another to make themselves heard
But then again
I never knew a poem
Could be buried
In the wrinkles of a palm
Why are such strong independent women afraid of wrinkles?
They're shelves to hold all the novels your life is written into, theyre lines to follow like a map of where you've been. They're proof you have lived a life they are proof you have felt things to great depths they are proof THAT YOU ARE HUMAN. feel pride for the art that is sprawled across your skin you've lived your life so boldly; so fucking strong. Being afraid of those defining lines of your life is such a cowardly thing to do.
i looked in the mirror and saw a wrinkle there
i looked a little closer they were everywhere
i guess i must be ageing not like i used to be
just a normal face that was wrinkle free.
but i will stay the same and be me inside
i wont change at all and still have my pride
i still have my love and a heart of gold
that will never change though im growing old.
“You look so sullen today,” he would tease.
He would try to iron the wrinkles
on my forehead with the palm of his hand.
The worry lines that I have had from before I understood
trembling breaths and foggy thoughts,
the creases that are not so easily pressed away
with soft words and even softer touches.
Daddy, I have loved melancholy
since I broke my wrists the first time
and learned the name of every bone
in the human body
because I realized I liked the unknown,
but I liked knowing it better.