where light delineates the dark,
a silhouette embowed by garments
embossed by my weight that follow.
What space can I borrow in the dark,
my body not mine to see anymore,
even if I found a dimmed reflection
it floats, unanchored to the floor
as the day goes on, my clothes grow on,
fed by the sun as it sets behind.
I’ll memorize my second skin to
prepare for when I am left blind.
Without a shadow, being becomes visceral,
I’m left just body and bone.
The armour that followed my footsteps,
leaves my vessel, soft and alone.