as the evening emerges
i turn off the lights.
still seeming, yet metamorphic days
have lead to quiet and contemplative nights.
just as the moon lays low
and the sun strikes the sky
a part of me disappears into dark,
and another rises in reply.
the wide eyed child i once was-
she didn't die overnight,
she simply eroded until she evaporated,
and her diminutive dust doesn't resemble her spirit.
though i wonder if i'll be erased or evanesced.
i have no choice but to mature.
therefore like my mother,
i'll breathe and bury it for the sake of business-
this must be the actuality of adulthood.
