How to tell
how to tell
fingers blunt and soft and pink
curled. calloused, permanently.
tough as nails
like a mutilated claw.
hard as a rock
a lone, petrified index finger comes to a point
sometimes, you get to a point
sharp, like the tip of a fountain pen.
dipped in violet ink.
lacerating chronicles onto my beating tongue.
get it off your chest
prompting a crimson flow.
you can’t get blood from a stone.
no, that’s true.
but fingers can lament.
this, i know.