We are taught to be wrinkle free, but life has another agenda and no matter how perfect we try to make things appear, there are some creases that cannot be ironed out. There are some scars that stay with you permanently. There is no cream or steam or process to get rid of them.
We have war wounds to testify for the fight against time, but we must celebrate these fine line experiences and acknowledge their truth. We survive what we know if inevitable; life leaves its traces. I have my scars.
Beauty does not have rules. People do.
Hand me my wrinkle cream, won’t you?
I see the crease in my forehead getting deeper. Perhaps I thought too much.
And the lines around my eyes grow longer. I might have laughed too hard.
And the scars of my heart. I might have loved too deeply.