I used to carry sunshine on my shoulders 
and pigtails on my hair 
and wild dreams in my chest that somehow,
always,
seemed to find their way up to the space between my ears, 
under the layers of hair

And every dream was a fantasy 
And every fantasy would turn fossil

My dreams began to expire when the sun faded and 
my arms became an awkward contortion of
what’s next
what ifs
too many questions
turned inward, away from the sunshine

Now I am a dark cloud,
I like rains and the clouds hovering in the horizon
There’s no space for sunshine here
and my chest is too busy respiring – with the weight of carrying air back and forth, up & down; 
you get the drill.

I make whimpery noises when the sun nudges me out of my bed
I cradle the sheets more preciously than 
I ever did dreams.
It’s exhausting living