A night without skin (Marcella Boccia)
I walk the earth tonight,bare,stripped of the fleshthat once held me together,a trembling silhouette in the dark,where the moon is a questionand the stars burn like unspoken secrets.There is no skin to shield me now—no walls to guard the heart,no breath to pull me back from the edge.I am all raw,all exposed,a wound that has learned to whisper.The air is colder here,as if the night itselfknows the cost of vulnerability,and the silence seeps deep,leaving a taste of ash on my tongue,a taste that lingerslike forgotten sins.I stretch out my hands—hands that have touched everythingand nothing—and in their trembling,I feel the pulse of the world,the sorrow of a thousand broken lives,the weight of promises unspoken.Without skin,there is no boundary,no place where I endand the universe begins.I am the sky and the earth,the space between,the crack in the soul where lighthas forgotten to fall.And yet,I walk,alone,into the night that does not careto dress my wounds.For in this emptiness,I find the raw truththat the heart beats louderwithout the skin to soften its cry.
