paint on the mirror

[buildthestars]

first poem here.

paint on the mirror

there was paint on the mirror
i had a drink in my hand and
his hand on my waist
and the world was spinning
so i barely registered the door closing behind me
but i remember thinking,
“why is there paint on the mirror?”
his hands were moving on me
and i was moving away because
i didn’t really know him
and i didn’t really like him but
he didn’t really
care
and there was paint in the mirror and
he was taking my clothes off
and why couldn’t he scrape the paint off the mirror because
didn’t that bother him the way
his hands bothered my skin
i tried to push him off but
i was drunk
and he was strong
there’s paint on the mirror
he’s inside me
there’s paint on the mirror
it hurts
he doesn’t care
there’s paint on the mirror
my hands are on his chest
stop
stop
he won’t
there’s paint on the mirror
he’s fucking me
there’s paint on the mirror
why
is
there
fucking
paint
on
the
mirror

there are no mirrors in my house
everyone asks why
and i tell them
there was paint
on the mirror