“unfinished”

she’s glad
after a few false starts
she grew her nails
for this
moment
this
image
tracing around
and around
the outline
trying to will
the scarlet polish
into waiting spaces
she plots a course
for goosebumps to follow
breathlessly
wandering
wondering
how so much ink
could seem so delicate
delicate being a fleeting thought
of course
of course
she wants her own
touched
up
and over smooth skin
her clothing
feeling like a sentence
she’s sorry
she can’t
and she won’t
but if she could
she can’t
and she won’t
but good fuck
if only she could

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