spreading shimmering
     blue on my fingertips -
appropriate,
     i think, curled on the floor.
convenient that the
     only color locked
          in the bathroom with me
                is blue

watching myself change colors,
     hair towel-wrapped and dripping,
i realize
     there are statistics for this.
          there are statistics for me.
girls who sit on the floor
     sopping polish on their
          fingers to keep from
               sobbing -
girls who
     can't let their

          pain

wake the neighbors.

anonymous surveys ask
     questions about girls like me -
          and i won't lie

i'll tell them
     the things they use
          to build statistics
               that put girls like me
          in boxes -

     separate.

between the last one
     and the next,
          someone reading somewhere
     will know, that
someone somewhere else
     once sat,
          spreading shimmering
                    blue
          on her fingertips,
     convincing herself
that when she
     unlocked the bathroom door,
               she wouldn't
          love him anymore.