Poem: Like a ghost, she dances.

Like a ghost, she dances.
Weightless. Fateless.
Suspended on strings.
Upended by things
we cant understand,
and can’t reprimand,
because tortures too dark to speak of have shaped her.
Alone and exposed, only the alcohol draped her
in it’s cocoon,
where together they bloomed,
in to this host,
this ghost,
that dances.