We are all sheets with creases
folded intricately
a line for each year, each pain, and each loss.
Every laugh, every gain, and every love
are contours on our skin.
How many scars have been knitted behind our smiles?
How many stories are stitched between the grooves of our hands?
We were not sewn to be ironed out.
We are here to be messy
to crinkle when we laugh
to gather a few pleats beside our eyes along the way.

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