Like clockwork, an intrusive sunrise walked me to my smudged, finger-tipped mirror. Forgotten affirmations sighed at my somber presence. In more ways than one, they hung on for dear life as the neon sticky notes slowly lost their ability to persist. The bathroom bulbs shined not so brightly. This is probably why my ombre pink and white fingers could never quite wipe away the echo of the mess I'd become. As I gazed beyond the reflection that was now only the shell of me, the second to last light flickered twice before finally giving up completely. Only a half second passed before the first bulb joined its departure.
On cue, a condescending love hissed in a loud whisper,
"You are so terrible at this 'letting go' thing. Just look at you. Hurt - and the pitiful type, too.
A sobbing headache - you have one, you are one.
Shattered shards of glass for a heart (that drips dried blood-red petals of the dead roses you refuse to throw out - because then you'll have no proof he once adored you).
Two buckets full of red flag regrets.
A completed puzzle of pieced-together broken promises.
Two restless nights - back to back;
Buy one, get one free. Compliments and complements of unanswered questions.
And it's sad, too. Because you know better. We have been down this road a time or two already. Darling, don't you know you have met, exceeded, and exuded every definition of 'tired'? Nevertheless, this is the perfect excuse to have Butter Pecan for breakfast again.
Drop the toothbrush and grab the biggest spoon you can find. One big enough to help you swallow the ice cream... and your pride. And then call him.
I'll be back to clean up your mess at tomorrow's sunrise."