I know it will happen.

You know it will happen.

That day we'll lose our enamel.

My skin will stop glowing,

Your eyes will start drooping.

My face will gain more wrinkles

as your stomach gains more ripples.

And understand that the enamel

is more than the surface of the teeth.

No. It's the surface of we.

Our bodies are slowly rotting.

But as we rot, we become much wiser.

To be old means to be exposed

like rotting trees with nothing to hide.

And there's no way for the true self to hide.

No way to live by what's on the outside.

They'll see our inner rings, our character,

the stories to share and memories we bear:

those beauties growing on the inside

that never, ever die.

One day,

people will see us for we.

And not for our enamel,

the rotting beauty.