Nail Polish

That day when we first spoke,

your first words to me were

'Your fingers look cute'.

To which I replied

that I didn't think so,

that my fingers were too thick and my nails shapeless.

You said that

they were the most beautiful fingers

you'd ever seen

and

pink nail paint suited them.

That day,

I fell in love

with

my fingers,

pink nail polish

and you.

Every time we met,

you made it a point to tell me that

my fingers were beautiful,

rubbing against them with yours

and smiling that crooked smile of yours

when I blushed.

Each of our meetings, every step of our love story

was witnessed by that pink nail polish, as if to bear testimony

to our secret relationship.

That day when you confessed that there was someone else,

my fingers broke down before I could.

I asked you point blank

if

you'd been calling her fingers cute too.

Your silence was chilling.

The pink nail paint bottle is empty, just like my life without you.

'Now, who's there to call us lovely?'

my fingers ask me.

I have no reply.