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.

You drink your cheap wine

In fancy China teacups

That my mother treasured

As her wedding gift.

You threw filthy curses

Through those lips smeared

In expensive shades of crimson.

I always hated the person

I become when you are around

Defensive, vengeful and withdrawn.

You must've noticed how

The room is hauntingly silent

Every time you walk in.

You probably realized how

None of us would sit near you

Until you ordered us to.

You must have felt something

To accuse us that none of us

Would cry even if you die.

.

But it is ironic how,

When everybody gathers happily

All proper, calm and composed

Desperately trying to be

The best kind of ourselves

I somehow miss the mess

That you are.

.