Mean

Mean

The fiery red flames of her dress danced around as she spoke.

No,

wait.

As I spoke for her.

I know this, she isn’t here anymore, yet I can still see her right there

I could feel my mind playing tricks on me as I bowed my head; willing that ghost of a horrible memory to go away.

I shut my eyes tight.

Feeling the ghostly touch of fingertips on my cheek, beckoning me to look up, to stare into her lovely red eyes, filled with the life and happiness she once had before I came along.

Why is my mind so mean?

Why.. was I so mean?