The Shedding
Written by
Aaliyah O'Neil
There is a skin I carry
that no one sees.
It doesn’t sweat or tan,
doesn’t scar the way real skin does.
It collects experience
like lint in a pocket—
the quiet weight of things
you think you’ve forgotten
but haven’t.
It thickens with every
not-quite scream,
every apology swallowed like stone,
every time I made myself smaller
to make room
for someone else’s storm.
And then—
something happens.
A rupture.
Not always loud,
sometimes just the sudden
realisation
that this isn’t mine anymore—
this shape,
this fear,
this script I’ve been mouthing
with someone else’s voice.
The skin starts to split.
Not violently.
More like fruit going soft
from the inside.
More like truth
finally outrunning denial.
It peels back
in sheets of memory—
the smell of old rooms,
the pressure of hands,
a laugh that never reached my eyes.
And beneath—
something tender.
Not new, exactly,
but untouched
by the story I kept telling myself.
I don’t know if it’s healing
or simply change.
But I know
I leave parts of me behind
like snakes leave ghosts
in the grass.
Each time,
I step out lighter,
less certain,
more honest.
Like beginning again
with no script,
just breath
and bare feet
on unfamiliar ground.
This is how I survive.
Not by hardening,
but by shedding
what was never meant
to stay.
It is more powerful than even I remembered.
Her response to a challenge for "Skin"
produced a missive of response for each of us
Without revelation of her own pieces of skin...
I, too, have lived through The Shedding
But much later than this young woman
So I am still striving to shed those pieces of skin
And I've shed a few through finding and sharing complementary music that spoke parts of me...
God Bless,
Gabby
Thank you, Aaliyah, for allowing me to share with the world of Book Readers Heaven!
© Aaliyah O'Neil 2025. All rights reserved.
These original poems and content are my creative work and are protected by copyright. Please do not reproduce, share, or use them without my permission.
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