Seeing Pink

 The thick pink rolled in languid folds into the paint tray, filling in the black ridges like raspberry jam. This should feel cathartic, shouldn’t it?  Being pro-active, making a positive step forward-for the family. I’m trying to forget about all of this silly nonsense. I’m trying to hold this family together…I’m trying…

Hear the car pull in, the door open, your husband bringing your daughter home. Shake the thought away, and smile. ‘Oh sweetheart, you’re home already! Why don’t you put your books down and come and help me, dear? Is your father just behind you, too? Call him in for me, if you would- I need that other wall gone over’.

A tray of rich, rippling pink- it looked so seductive, like I suppose she did, all of those times with you. I’ve caught you now- pink-handed.


‘Raspberry Diva’- they personify paint now.

The thick, wet pink rolled over, and over.

To hear it the first time was bad enough, to see it the first time- the tan line, on your finger.

Hidden for a butter blonde? All tits and arse. No class,

I know who she was.

Hidden from yours truly,

a butter blonde to spread.

You put your hand in it- buttered fingers.

Did you never feel wrong, doing it?

Then calling it “the gym”?

Had I lost my fun-factor? Fuck-factor?

Left with the wrong side of the bed

we shared.

I’ll paint (over) the picture, in pasted pink

How you, you shared concealed caresses with other women- hid your gold.

The big reveal, of my foolish loyalty.

“Stay together for the kids”,

like hell you’ll turn your back on this.

And now when you say ‘Come back to bed, dear’, I know I’d rather watch paint dry.


“Mum? MUuuum? MUM!!” I jerk back into the room when her voice finally reaches me, snapping me out of the lull, out of the rhythm of the monotonous paint strokes. “Ughh fiiiinally!” She jokes that she was going to have to sign it for me after a minute longer. I laugh, for her; my sweet, sweet child.

“You’ve missed a bit, Mum- look, there!” I see her pointing past me, beautiful and precious, at a patch of ivory wall unpainted. “Oh! Why yes, I have missed a bit dear, haven’t I?” I lift my brush up to where her finger pointed, to press the patch with pink. “Thank you for all of your help my darling, but you run along and get started on your homework, now. I’ll cover this up for you dear, don’t worry. I’ll cover it up for you…”




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