Painting Flags

First red flag – you weren’t a cat person.

Why not?

Cats are great.

They all have different personalities.

Demand respect.

And deserve patience.

They easily define their boundaries.

Choose when to be touched and only allow

the worthy into their personal space.

You are not a cat person,

and you chose not to become a cat person.

So, my three cats and I

are happy you walked away.

Sure, you loved dogs,

which I thought was great.

But then you told me,

“just not big dogs…they’re just too much, you see.”

Is a dog not a dog?

No matter their size?

Loving unconditionally and

making you their priority.

Big dogs may appear intimidating,

ready to attack.

But sweetness has many faces,

and like all creatures,

require lots of patience and

work to mold them to obedient protectors.

I was blessed with a big dog.

A soul that has taken my love and

attention.

You opposed being a cat person,

and chose to oppose big dogs as well.

So, my big dog and I

are happy you walked away.

But the biggest red flag flew high in the sky

towards the end.

Our energies stopped matching.

I wanted to Thrive

and you barely tried to survive.

Love made me blind

and I unconsciously began to settle.

Accepting second and third place,

sometimes fourth and fifth.

I stopped challenging.

Questioning.

Wondering why you could not accommodate?

Why didn’t you accept?

Carve time for me,

for my family.

“You are a great artist,”

I’ve said before.

How could I miss your masterpiece –

painting red flags green.

But alas, I must be honest.

I helped you finish your painting.

“All flags must be green.”

Excusing the cat comments,

the resilience towards my dogs,

the bailing and contemplating.

Oh, my world was rose-colored.

Sprouting green flags dripping paint.

It rained with tears.

Thundered with sobs.

The lightening flashed bright,

blinding,

hiding the green paint

draining away.

Then lightning struck hard.

A twister revealed in the darkness.

Violent winds punched,

kicked,

slapped,

stripping away the rose-colored glasses.

“We’re breaking up…

…so give me my shirt back.”

A shirt.

A piece of cloth.

Worth more than what I gave.

A green veil of empty words.

False sacrifices.

Dishonor to the corps.

A gift I mistook for dedication,

a relationship worth fighting for.

But then again,

how could I've known?

I was too busy

helping you paint

those red flags green.