I didn’t notice myself changing—
until I did.
One day,
my laugh didn’t echo the same.
My eyes
stopped believing as quickly.

Childhood slipped off
like a sweater in summer
quietly,
forgotten on a chair.

Dreams I swore I’d chase
now gather dust
in unopened folders
and fading notebooks.

The mirror grew honest.
My knees, less kind.
Time,
less patient.

I miss how time once felt—
limitless.
Like I could waste it
and it would wait for me.

Now,
every birthday feels like
a sigh I didn’t mean to let out.

But here I am—
still unfolding,
still becoming,
even if it’s slower now.

Because youth doesn’t vanish,
it just leaves quietly,
with soft hands
and no apology.