Second Skin

Cold fabric slips awkward,

double ties fumbling at the back.

Thin cloth folding like fragile pages,

a new chapter pressed against skin.

Fluorescent light flickers, hums,

the sterile smell sharp and close,

exposing a body not my own,

a moment of borrowed vulnerability.

I fold the gown like a loose promise,

holding both shame and care

in the threadbare, trembling seams.