₊˚⊹♡2009♡⊹˚₊

Maturity discovered between the flip of calendar pages

The year no longer reads 2009 
On my drive to work, the air was breathed differently 
Trapping itself deep within my nostrils 
Always strange when rain’s remnants stick to every welcoming surface 
Desperate enough to inhale his scent in my sleep 

Though the years have accumulated on the pages of cheaply made calendars 
Found in the footnotes of a FoodCity pamphlet

Shifting the days as they proceed 

Feeling younger at the clouded sunrise than the blinding white that came days prior 
Smoothing the aged creases neighboring my eyes 
Derma insists on flaunting the prepubescent blemishes; available to a glance, no matter the number of times I had shunned them away 

Unable to drive in the year 2009 
Only the freckled front of the steering wheel is available to be pressed 
Altering my father as he returned a rattling shopping cart 

That year, I had been introduced to the warmth provided to my cheeks 
The fondness of each individual, my eyes failed to tire of 
Still reminiscing about the stickiness of rain, having ruined multiple pairs of running shoes in mud puddles 
Still enrolled in the affectionate course taught at my local HeadStart

Unable to extend the blessing
Until my skin had tensed
The pudge from childhood sweets causing divots along my ridge 
My manicured nails linger at the protruding overlay 
Not aged enough to fully reap what was planted long ago 
I ask you, darling, in all my kindness, to please grow old