walls.
We chose the paint together
eggshell white
and we laughed while we painted.
We were happy to have walls that were ours.
The problems started so small
tiny corrections
things I said that weren’t quite to your liking
things I did that weren’t quite how you wanted them
the tap of an impatient foot
the sigh of an impatient man.
Then it grew
like the cracks in the eggshell white
when your fist would meet the door frame.
It grew
into sharp remarks
unprevoked attacks
doors slammed and voices raised and glasses broken in the sink
scratching the stainless steel that we had agreed
was worth the investment.
It grew from small problems into
bitterness
anger
hate
black cracks on eggshell white
until at last your palm met my cheek
hard
fast
final.
I said
“Leave.”
and you left
and the next day I chose new paint
ivory
and I smiled while I painted.
I was happy to have walls that were
mine.