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