I became undone under the sun,
though the sun did not shine on my bones!
Starved mocha skin
breath short
pit a pat.
Pitter-patter heart,
these sensations are nameless.
Death trepidation summoned,
window bound, eyes on the clouds.
When would it arrive?
A jigsaw mind and fragmented torso; everything in between whispering.
This bodily betrayal where pain dances as loss perches,
I buried this in the shadow of many others.
My imprisoned tongue; a pen
plummeting into the depths within
Fall is a time for the body to reset. Yet summer,
under the sun, I had unravelled....
all because the sun did not shine on my bones.
Autumn Elle is a Dance Movement Psychotherapy student, with a love of dance, books and writing.
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