going to bed before 9pm

my bones ache with wisdom and work

while the lines in my face detail evolution—

struggle and laughter,

rage and elation,

confusion and curiosity,

anguish and peace.

i carry every year of myself—

i don't pawn it off with lies

or hide it behind makeup and hair dye.

i let it be.

the burden of age feels heavy at first,

but it becomes comforting—

for here i am another day.