slivers
Your nails are painted pink,
but the edges are chipped,
revealing tiny slivers of skin
beneath the color.
You press your fingers to mine,
lining them up like constellations,
and ask if I think they’re ugly.
I shake my head,
because how could I?
Even in pieces,
you’re the brightest thing
I’ve ever held.
Copyright © Shay Storey | Year Posted 2025
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