I'm sharing a house with her;
She's the moodiest person I know

She drinks her coffee without sugar
in the cold days,
and with sugar in the sunny days.
She calls it way of living;
      I call it lost of interest

She sleeps all day
to drive her demons away
     -I think
      she's creating more-
and if not,
she cries over a crack in the wall

Melancholy should be her second name
      -she annoys every cell in me
        I'm not even trying to explain-
so much sadness in a face
she destroyed the colours of our furniture  
in the very first day

I think of driving her off the house
but then,
  an abandoned house
is the most miserable thing
I can think about