Without fail.

Without fail.
Every morning, my alarm goes off.
Every morning, I turn it off and wish I would never wake up again.
Stare.
Stare at the ceiling.
My distorted reflection stares like a zombie back at me from the chrome lip of my bedroom light.
Stare at the wall.
God, I need to hang something in that blank space.
Start seeing faces in the folds of the blanket when I can no longer gaze at the wall.
God, I need to fold my laundry.
Every sound is painfully loud when you feel this empty.

I send you my regular morning text.
Make it sound upbeat. Come on! make it sound happy.
Don't let him know your rotting from the inside out.
Keep what he sees and hears locked up.
You cant be bothered.
Put on the indifferent tone.
Poke fun. Talk shit. As if you don't know he's dieing.

The crows outside my house sound like a death rattle.

How am I going to get through this day....
Paint my face.
The more makeup I wear is in direct correlation with how horrible I feel.
Look at my pink hair.
Look at my fake eyelashes.
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.
The man behind the curtain is just a broken girl who doesn't actually want to talk about this.
They'd never understand anyways.
They certainly wouldn't stop talking long enough for you to explain anything anyways.
Paint paint paint.
Paint the roses red.
They're gray anyways.
It only matters what people see right?
Fake the rose colored tint when you're in a black hole.
Pull my tights on.
Zip up my skirt.
Catch my bus.
Go to work.
Start another 24 hrs I'll lose with him.
Every morning.
Without fail.