"story of Old"

I arose to the sun beating on my face Stretching out all the aches and pains Rubbing out the old stale tears from all the yesterdays Whipping the sweat of all the left over strength from my pale brow Sitting up, ignoring the pits that bellow beneath my stomach blue Lazily peeling the strand of hair that seemed to hug the side of my lip My lips chapped with defeat and thirsty for just a splash of elegant water Standing up, fighting off the sleepy tingles that creep up the center of my spine Wishing for those few and far between extra minutes that bend my dreams in half A brand new day, awake and still dreaming Walking desperately to the room that hides my flaws Until I glance effortlessly and unwillingly in the mirror that stares back at me Almost stalking me with its lustful glare It is I whom eyeballs that once folded smile I am beautiful in fact-beautiful in part-beautiful instead of dead wonder and amazement. To the cracking sound of the rays pushing through the clouds Like thunder that breaks my heart in two That secret warm wind finds its way to dance in and out of my hair, and my life. A long deep breath, oh that somber crispness that invades all privacy Again peering back at…me. Yellow my teeth have aged and stained For one brief second remembering that piercing pain of my very first and young tooth Adolescence lost I am old with love, old with hate, and old with excellence. Aged to a fine wine, and bitter with the taste of passion My skin, like leather; Tough to break, but has the snap of a whip Thoughts fade in and out, like a wave meeting the shore, it slithers back lost in sand Lost in time, an hour has past and still not dressed Those lingering hints of cheap perfume mixed with 20 years of sex that sleeps within my sheets, with me, under me, and over. I smile at the creases and pruned wrinkles that have invaded my once virgin mouth Only if I could peel this shell, this facade that I've hidden behind,or have grown into. That silver, shinny and brilliant with the essence of once a deep chocolate brown Heavy are those lids that seem to hang beneath my once glamorous lashes, and accented with a miserable gray tint It’s ok…I've grown, with that tree outside my door; my leaves too are wilting. Falling with only the beauty of a million laughs and tears Throughout those years I've left behind, but reminisce and savor.