Dancing in the dark, this sweet
catharsis engulfs my heart and
folds into my mind as a whirlwind of
Shame shrouds my scars in
shadowy light, as they contort and
conform to what their body tried so
hard to be.
And so, I dance in the dark, every
night, in a boy’s basement, in a
boxy black t-shirt which blends
seamlessly into the billowing shock
of what I used to be.
Developpé, pirouette, ronde de
I strike myself down into the floor—
parts of me, all of me, the
memories, the shame, racing
thoughts and a jumping heartbeat.
I cannot stop dancing in the dark,
as shadows soutenu around
something deep and dizzying.
Camille Wilk is a developing poet. Poetry is more than a hobby, more than a passion-- it is her way of coping, and it has become an addictive outlet for her.