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.