I’m but a fossil

By Julia Sacco


I’ve always yearned to be thin and soft-spoken,

flowers blooming with each utterance from my gentle mouth.

To be delicate and sweet,

to be offered a sweater on a cold day.

To be the kind of girl who glides into clothing without having to check the size.


Not the loud, broad girl,

taking up too much space in a room with my thundering laugh and mountainous shoulders.

Sweating in the summertime, huffing and puffing in the heat, lacking any elegance.


I am but a fossil of beauty,

what was once there now encompassed in harsh rock and dirt.


Oh, how I miss my radiance.