The Red-Dyed Shirt

She dresses tonight in a red-dyed shirt.
Gauzy fabric brushes her shoulders
Cool, sexy,
and perfect for a summer party.

She recalls when it was white:
Dancing, moonlight, kissing, wine.
“He’s so nice,” they said.

But the Sangria stains
on her white shirt
said something else.
Meanwhile she
said nothing.

Instead, she scrubbed the shirt
and bathed it in a vat of dye.
But nothing changed
until she talked.
Until she screamed.

And so, she wears the shirt tonight.
The stain remains
on close inspection.
But it’s a great red shirt,
and perfect for a summer party.

Photo Credit: dno1967b via Compfight cc

11 Comments
  1. When I read powerful poetry like this, I am always in awe of how simple, yet not-so-simple, words weaving a story in such a beautiful, albeit sad, flow. This is just beautiful.

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