What color is shame?

Shame is blue.

I stared straight ahead on the bus, my cigarette dangling out of my mouth. I knew I shouldn't smoke, nasty habit, but hell at this point my whole life was a nasty habit.

I pulled my hoodie closer to myself, the chill of early morning getting to me.

What was I doing on this bus at three in the morning?

I hated that I was here, riding straight into my sin. I was kind of pathetic. I had better things to think about than this, better ways to use my time than taking a bus an hour outside of town to meet a complete stranger.

I should be ashamed of myself.

I was.

I was going to turn around. I promise I'm not going to do this again, I'm not going to indulge myself in such…filth. I wasn't going to keep going down to Santa Monica to eat edible underwear and feel like shit the minute after the mindblowing fuck was over.

I stood up to pull the wire to stop the bus. I could get off here and be back in Gilroy in ten minutes, be back in bed, my ego intact.

Who was I kidding? I wasn't going to pull that wire. I wasn't going home any time soon. Chances are I'd spend about two hours fucking, one hour sleeping and another riding the bus home.

I plopped back onto the blue pleather seats and let my head rest against the top of it. If only my parents knew what I was up to. They'd put a stop to it real quick. If Eddie knew how I spent my Saturday nights, if Riot Skates Management knew… I'd be screwed, and not even in the way I'd be tonight.

I should think of my fans, of the people who looked up to me. What would they say if they knew? I would lose everything I love, my career, my friends, my family. All over a piece of ass. All because of what I wanted to be.

The bus came to a halt, and I got out, stomping out the butt of my cigarette. I looked at the sky, the dusty midnight blue seeming to fade into forever. This was my chance to get rid of the swelling shame I felt building in my stomach. I could get back on the bus and ride back into Gilroy, forget this ever happened. Instead, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and kept walking on until I spotted who I wanted to spot, my whore for the night.

I looked back at the bus once more before making my way through the crowd and looking deeply into dark blue eyes.

He pulled me by the strings of my hoodie and I let him lead me back to his place.

The television casted a bluish hue against his naked back as I stared at it, the only noise to be heard was his deep breathing. He was my shame

Shame is blue.