Fiery-Fire

You’re crying again. You’re in your room in the corner with the cobwebs and your bottles on the floor. You’re on your knees and you’re rocking back and forth. Your makeup falls in clumps from your face. Your white dress is smeared with red and no one can tell if the stains are from the wine or the glass shards forming a mosaic on the floor. We know why you cry. We can all see the red in your eyes and the paleness of your cheeks. We can all see how your fingernails are flayed like paper. We know that you don’t eat and sleep and you just stare out of your window, wasting your years and your life because your ghost