I don't paint my fingernails right before our visits anymore
I don't rush the brushstrokes
I don't worry about the paint drying in time
Afraid that you'll see the truth
Gnawed,
Ripped,
bitten nails
A shadow of anxiety
A shadow of what's inside me

And you see me
My flaws
My weaknesses
Yet you call it beauty
Polish or no polish
You still kiss the palms of my hands
And my soul knows it's home