My Shame

You, are not my shame.

My fear of you is my shame.

My fear that if this could happen to you, it could happen to me.  And I would not be as strong as you have been, in surviving.  In living.  In existing.  I’m ashamed of my fear.

My fear is that I don’t know what to do so I don’t seek, I don’t push, I just…wait.   My shame, is that this is my excuse.

My shame is that I respond to my fear more than to your need.

My shame is that I don’t know what to do so I don’t do.

My shame is in unrealistic guilt.  But the guilt is there, unrealistic as it should be, it exists.

My shame is my disgrace.

You, are not my shame.