Pink Flamingo

Pink Flamingo was the shade, from the condom it did not fade.
Too brilliant a pink. What was I to think?
It lay on the floor by where I slept, covered in that pink that I'd wore on my lips.
But, No, not that night.  No, not that day.
So I glance at the condom.
Like, was I to be afraid?
What would one think?
Someone's definite presence.
A troubled soul had been in my home, could've proved it with my phone.
All I did was throw it away, discard all thoughts,  and continue to let him roam.
After all, I wasn't frightened. Not shocked or dismayed.
Still waiting on the words for how I was maimed.