She lights candles before she locks and leaves the house.
She sprays on perfume before she falls into bed at night.
She stuffs dead pets, and rubs their fur against her cheeks..
She walks barefoot through the garden in a winter frost.
She curls into a tiny ball when her children come to visit.
She pretends she’s Marilyn Monroe and sings to the mirror.
She paints on heavy eyeliner and takes her meals alone.
She tears the wallpaper with her red-painted fingernails.
She cracks eggs on the tile floor and blames it on ghosts.
She pinches her skin to see if she’s awake or dreaming.
She counts rosaries fervently, her tight lips growing dry.
She drinks vinegary red wine, and doesn’t even taste it.
She cries in her sleep as her papery skin dries and peels.

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Peter Dickinson 7 years ago from South East Asia

Thank You.

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