Shame

Where do you hide your shame that I do not see it upon your face?

Is it in your pocket? Are you saving it for when you are alone so that you do not have to share your shame?

Is it in your fists, shut so tightly that you won't let it out?

Is it buried in the ground beneath your feet, pounding through the dirt, ready to escape?

Oh, no, don't tell me you don't have any. 

I need you to feel guilt. I need you to feel as bad as you made me feel.

I need that flush of heat across the surface of your skin, and that look in your eyes, reflecting upon your choices wishing you could go back.

I need you to hurt.

How can I move on knowing I got hurt and you feel nothing at all?