"The baseboards can always be painted over."
The sentence played over and over again in Margaret's head. The real estate agent had muttered it innocently under her breath, but it stuck with he
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The first time it happened, I can’t remember
Or the second or the third
It just always was,
The holes in the wall,
The sharp crack of your voice, a whip on my ears
I remember the guitar
(You used to play)
We flicked a marble and it ricocheted off the polished wood,
The sound of it falling like an angry strum
You took him first,
Held him against the wall by his throat
I ran downstairs and turned the TV on low
(I hoped you wouldn’t hear)
I remember short, fast car rides
You came skidding to a stop, threw us out,
As you peeled away I wondered just how long
It would take for the black marks on the pavement
To fade away
I remember many things,
But like a rock that’s washed over with waves,
You’ve smoothed over time
And maybe my memory isn’t as good
As it used to be
Or the second or the third
It just always was,
The holes in the wall,
The sharp crack of your voice, a whip on my ears
I remember the guitar
(You used to play)
We flicked a marble and it ricocheted off the polished wood,
The sound of it falling like an angry strum
You took him first,
Held him against the wall by his throat
I ran downstairs and turned the TV on low
(I hoped you wouldn’t hear)
I remember short, fast car rides
You came skidding to a stop, threw us out,
As you peeled away I wondered just how long
It would take for the black marks on the pavement
To fade away
I remember many things,
But like a rock that’s washed over with waves,
You’ve smoothed over time
And maybe my memory isn’t as good
As it used to be