Becoming an adult was more like
reading an extremely long book
that takes a few pages
to get interesting enough
for you to read more
than ten pages at a time.

Each flip of a page
was each step
into becoming a woman.

At first, it was slow,
like when a book caught your eye
but you haven’t memorized
what each character would look like
first thing in the morning
or what their sense of humor is like.

Then, all at once,
your eyes are glued to the page
and even though they droop with exhaustion,
the pages flip fast
with an eagerness to know more.

As for the trek into independence,
each change to décor and organization
happened all at once.

Childish trophies were chucked,
zebra print comforters were replaced
with tasteful black and white
and blood red accents,
the clutter of collages and magazine pages
was torn down leaving my walls
more mature and bare,
espresso soaked furniture was ordered
on express to compliment
both the dresser and the desk.

And as I introduced
my newest person of interest to my house
and I surveyed my room from his eyes,
it was the ending I had imagined.

*July 10, 2014 5:03:37 PM