(a.k.a. Exchange 26)
My nails are painted white.
Since I saw you, it's turned to a color similar to your skin.
I'd like to think of it that way.
I'd like to think it was because of the way I was running my hands on your arms and neck.
The way it annoyed you so much that you subconsciously pulled my arm to rest, stretched out to your collarbone.
I'd like to think its because of the excessive, excessive ways I studied your body, as if you were engraved in Braille and it was my first time to read.
I force myself to remember everything that there is to remember.
But remembering only makes me want to learn you more.
How can I ever say that you tainted my Snow White colored nails, when it is I who dipped into you over and over and over and over and over.