Porcelain

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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
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.