Caught in the Light

I caught my collarbone, glistening bright,

like a sliver of ice under sterile lights.

A reflection betrays all the curves of my skin,

fragile, exposed, like a secret I spin.

Their eyes, they lingered, like a question unasked,

a weight in the air, it felt like a task.

To hold the gaze steady when the world seemed so dim,

the soft arch of bone, vulnerable, slim.

I shift in my seat, try to shake off the stare,

as the fluorescent buzz hums a song of despair.

What is it they see? A fragment, a flick,

a moment suspended, a memory thick.

Caught in this glow, I forget where I end,

and the shape of myself feels both stranger and friend.