I painted my nails pink yesterday.
I thought the color would be nice.
I was careful and meticulous and I tried very hard.
It looked so strange on my fingers
up against my skin;
my hands looked darker
and the ripped ****** grooves surrounding looked
all the more open and sore.
It was unsettling.
That was yesterday.
Today, my pink nail polish is gone.
My thumb bears the smallest chip.
I want to pry it off but
I want to remember what happens when
I think to myself that some color would be nice.