Some days the curtains won’t close tight enough,
the mattress won’t sink deep enough
and despite clutching at the duvet,
pinning it around desperate limbs,
drafts still snake their way in.
On those days it doesn’t matter how tight
I screw my eyes shut,
the light is always there behind my lids,
prickling, waiting, demanding
that I emerge and acknowledge it.
Those were the days I didn’t leave my bed.
The ones I missed class and didn’t explain why.
A time I don’t ignore,
but I still can’t name in confidence.
I let it sit in my memory
like storm clouds on a horizon,
not close enough to worry on,
but a reminder that the sun doesn’t always shine
and I haven’t always managed to smile
instead of cry.