Some say that makeup is the artistic expression of oneself.
Would they consider my naked face a blank slate with no vibrance?
Though I am bare, I am no mere canvas of whites and blacks.
I am an intriguing work of imperfect beauty,
The freckles embody numerous days spent in the diaphanous sunlight,
My creases signify the laughter, heartache, and struggle encountered,
The mouth denotes the threshold through which I have shown my inner beauty to others,
My scar, unhidden, is a reminder of the life I am fortunate to live,
The brown eyes are amber reflections of the diverse people encountered,
The unforgettable scenery appreciated,
The smiles of loved ones.
In my opinion,
makeup is not the expression of oneself.
But a nude face; having weathered a lifetime of love, hardship, melancholy, joy,
Is an illustration of a beautiful, unembellished, extraordinary story.