I took my heart
and tore it
in punishment and scorn
I squeezed the lump
and swore it
must never be forlorn
now my soul is bleeding
from the nails I jabbed straight in
and all my roses bruising
from no more than selfish sin

my hair was done
my outfit looked great
my jewelry was in place and
my lips were painted.

but i didn't paint my nails

it didn't dawn on me until you pulled
up to the driveway and i had
been anxiously staring at my hands
that i had forgotten something
crucial.
i didn't think i looked perfect
like i had previously
believed.
the doubt sat in the back of
my mind as i kissed you hello,
hoping you wouldn't notice that
the color of my nails were
chipped, fading, and
various shades of dull.
as the day went on, you still
held my hand with the
grip you had before, you
still looked into my eyes as if
they were galaxies unfolding
in your line of vision, you
still played with my fingers and
kissed the back of my hand, and you
still kissed me till my
painted lips were smeared.
i laughed at the end of the day and
thought,
but i didn't paint my nails.
it didn't matter to you.
you probably never noticed.

I can feel my nails dig into my palms,
The same way I can feel their words pierce my heart.
Their eyes are lasers that fall on my skull,
And their hands are the whips that scar my body.

Do they realize what they do to me?
Do they know what I’ve become?
Do I even matter to them anymore?
Do they care as they did?

I sit here alone,
Staring at the walls
Of the house that was once mine.
The place I called home.
It doesn’t feel like home anymore.
When did that happen?
When did everything change?
Will it ever feel like home again?

My nails still dig into my palms.
Tiny curves of pain fill my hands,
For now.
They’ll be gone soon,
Those little scars.
But I’ll still be here,
Wondering when my world fell apart.