Peeling off the day my ankle shows

Peeling off the day, my ankle shows

where sunlight drew its hard line,

a sharp border, red and raw.

Sock’s edge like a blade, cutting through

skin to reveal the ghost of shade.

A map of days uncounted, mistakes

made under too-bright skies.

The red line hums, a scar left behind—

a mark of forgetting sunscreen,

a border drawn without consent.

Sun and shade argue in quiet tones,

sliding slowly along my skin,

a hard edge that won't quite fade,

sticking tight like a stubborn memory.