Smile, laughter, grief, and sun lines are carved into my every expression.
We’re betraying each other as we speak.
Pain and joy have left their marks, signaling the map of my life.
That’s the truth they holler, while I try to drown out their noise with my own voice.
I’m aging. My face admits it. My hands concur. My brain sluggishly accepts their verdict.
Let them speak. Accept them. Embrace them.
We quietly, gracefully agree, that we’re one and the same.