tippex

I sometimes paint my fingernails

it's always black and white

and my nails never resemble

anything else than the fingernails

of someone who bites their fingers

to the bone

I do it even though

my sister always laughs

that it looks like nails coloured

with a sharpie and tippex

(they are not - 

- but they do look like this)

I do it even though

I can't really do it properly

I do it to prove myself

I am in charge

I do it to show the world

I don't care

one time

when I've felt extremely healthy

and brave

I've painted them red

Samson

I've cut my hair

a while ago

but I didn't make you 

choose

perhaps that was

my mistake

or maybe simply

you didn't understand

you've cut your hair

a week ago

such a loud and final

full stop

the visible sign

of cutting me

just under my knees

so I can fall

and if no-one listens

- and no-one does - 

there will be no sound

in respect to my mouth

it will stay silent

just the same

maybe some day

they will tell

beautiful stories

about all of that

and later on

immortalise it

in amber

(that's a nice thought)

or maybe - 

- maybe they won't

telltales

it's kind of a telltale

that I hold your hand in public

or hide my face in your arms

and maybe sometimes

I stay silent

for the whole morning

seeking refuge

in the shirt

that is way too big

still - I bite my lip

when you ask serious questions

and refuse to answer my phone

for many many days

you know very well how

I take my coffee

and what

you shouldn't talk about

it might be it.