i scrape out dirt that one
can’t see with the naked eye
from underneath my nails
out of anxiousness
desperation
needing to feel
the keratinized layers add
femininity to me
cleaning them out
twice more
nine times more
seventeen times more
i pull my hands away and stare
at the chipped clear polish and
savagely push back the cuticles

forgive me for i have forgotten what love feels like
tastes like
and looks like,
so even if i were to stumble into her on the street after all this dies down
i wouldn’t even recognize her
nor have the slightest idea on how to keep her