Our face tells a story of our life

Like a roadmap or framework

Meticulous in noting the milestones,

Markers for the good times

The bad times

And the times that smiles were needed

Words written in 

Starch lines across our

Skin, aging 

Our skin to make room

For storing the 

Small moments

Moments lined up and tugged across a twined string

The cutaneous moments that allow us to sigh heavy with relief

That the life we live is worth living for

The irony of youth is 

Combating this joy itself

Concealing these smiles and lines

With heavy foundation

The smooth brush gliding across silk cheeks

Drowning the experiences out and 

Letting them hide.

For our skin is on the clock

Ticking and tocking 

As the clock hands wipe away the foundation across our cheeks

The corners of our heavy lips pursed

Waiting to be pried open by the crowbar 

To crease again; laughter falls 

Silent and slices

Our experiences deafening, the urge 

To smile to laugh calls,

But the fear of old age chains us,

And in our old age, 

The wrinkles

And creases glow and shine, for we 

Learn not to be scared to show our lines

As they capture our life’s most raw,

Breathtaking moments