Porcelain

I don’t want to grow old and look young I don’t want a porcelain face that doesn’t shatter when it feels I don’t want a body that defies gravity, I want mine to be grounded I don’t want manicured arms, bulbous lips and pristine fingernails I want my hands to show how hard I’ve worked I want to wear my mistakes and my triumphs with pride I want every scar, every mark, every line, every wrinkle to tell a story To tell you this person lived, this person laughed, this person frowned, this person made it count These lines grow as I do, let them tell the world I am here, I am alive.