Walk of Shame

I.

Your gait is the opposite of correct, stumbling, eyes looking down, watching each step.

Your arms folded in close, tight, guarding against all that is out there waiting for you.

What did you whisper to your pillow as the tears streamed down your face?

Where did you throw the pieces of all your shattered and broken dreams?

II.

That night bit deep, and your youthful experience was not complete.

Studying the behavior of your peers, you mirrored and reciprocated.

Only wanting love, only wanting connection, only wanting calm.

You chose to twist yourself, malleable, into something you're not.

What you received you did not want, and now it electrifies your every thought.

It's cold outside, but not that cold. You realize it's simply a lack of emotive warmth.

Who will dress you now and take you across that threshold? There is one that I know,

who will meet you there, and hold you until the hurting stops?

III.

I walked with you, each step more painful than the last, and I know your hurt.

I have been to the top of the mountain and looked down on the expanse.

I knew you then too.

Although you can't look in my eyes for you have mummified yourself in guilt,

I am aware of you, and my cause for concern led me to take a walk of shame myself.