Little By Little

I used to measure

the length of our relationship

by how many times

I had trimmed my

fingernails

since we had started

sleeping together.

I would sit on the edge

of the bathtub,

splitting my nails open

and peeling them back

to their keratin root

hoping to rid myself

of the hundreds of images

that had accumulated there

because of you.

Do you remember

how badly

you used to want to die?

Yeah,

well

so do I.

You used to disappear

into thin air

so often

that I wasn’t sad

or angry

just resolute

in never understanding

what had truly happened

to you.

Once,

I grew my nails out long

so I could draw blood

to the surface

of your back

just so that I could prove

that you were still alive

somewhere inside

of there.

But I never really knew,

were you?