i fumble my hands,
i try not to pick at my nails.
i am still wearing your nail polish,
and i'm scared that if i scratch it off,
it'll really be the end.
you do not look at me,
no one looks at me.
in a sea of people i call my friends,
i am surrounded by cliffs which
rip holes in the sides of my ship.
in a sea of people i call my friends,
i am alone.
i scrape the red off my nails,
and clean the blood off my nailbeds,
my fingertips still shaking.
i am no longer wearing your nail polish,
you are no longer mine to laugh with.
hyperion*