I want to catch my daydreams as they try and flee, and tie them around my wrists so I can carry them with me.

I will tie them with the pink thread from the dress you loved to watch me twirl in after church, in the basement.
It will be a relief to watch the wind hold those memories rather than holding them in that part of my brain we don't talk about.
It will look pretty, and light.
Maybe I will feel pretty, and light.

Either way these things I see running through my head are stuck with me as long as I keep the threat tied tight,
I will look past that pink string and into the thought of living a life where I am the bird on my arm and the child inside me.

We fly together and we are free.