Stranger in High Heels

Pink, bright pink.
Drawing my eyes like
moths to garish flames.
Against the sombre black
you elsewise don they shine
like neon beacons
From your feet.
I wonder.
Which is the real you?
The one who seeks
to hide away in
monochromic shadows,
Turning inward thoughts
to never have to face
the outside world.
Or
Is there inside a soul
that brightly burns.
A shocking streak that
cries out to be seen
and heard above the
dreary humdrum that
is life.
You walk away,
And as I watch I realise
that in my mind your story
is complete.

This suddenly sprang into my mind on seeing a woman in my local supermarket dressed completely in black apart from a pair of shocking pink shoes.