Shame is the colour red

Even now,

years on,

I speak about you

with my hands held

over my eyes;

red cheeked

and ashamed.

 

The shame I carry

belonged to you;

you gave it to me

for safe keeping,

a list

of all the rules

you had broken.

 

It should still belong

to you

rather than to me;

a girl who did not realise

the ground she worshipped

would soon betray her,

leave her

 

with baggage

she did not wish

to claim.

Yet what hurts

the most, a thorn

in my lion’s paw,

is the disappointment;

 

that a wise man,

a kind man,

a brilliant man

could be so carelessly

cruel and absent

minded,

wearing rose tinted glasses;

 

I saw you as a hero

when all you are

is a fool.

 


© Kristiana Reed 2019

6 thoughts on “Shame is the colour red

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