Hat of Shame
If I could wear my shame like a hat, it would be Kentucky derby massive. So obnoxiously flashy and arrogant with extravagant feathers that keeps poking me in the eye. I would never take it off, except to add more bedazzle. More layers of organza, ribbons, and tulle one pound at a time. Once it is full of disgrace, I would place it back upon my head like a royal crown of ignominy. It would sparkle and shine for everyone to see. Until one day that it gets so heavy that my neck begins to strain and I decide it needs to be removed, put down. I know your hat is heavy, too and your head must be so tired. Lets take the headgear off, set them both on fire. Silently we will watch as the dead birds dance, featherless ashes will fill the sky. While we are it, let's just shave our heads. Start with brand new growth around our brains. We will no longer be ashamed for being betrayed. We are both tired of being portrayed as the villain. We have stopped remembering why we loved each other