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