Wake up to hit the snooze button.
Wake up again.
Properly. Officially. Already-late to wherever I am going.
Reach across to what used to be your side of the bed to find empty sheets.
Check the phone just in case you had changed your mind.
Perform typical bodily functions.
Wonder how one can go to bed with minty fresh breath and wake up with a mouth like the anus of Satan.
Toothpaste on toothbrush. Remember how it used to drive you mad that I would squeeze from the middle of the tube instead of the bottom?
Cry in the shower so no one can see my tears #drake
Shave. Just kidding. Who am I trying to impress?
Paint the face to look like me but better.
Clothes and practical underwear. Leave that pushup bra to gather dust for another day.
Practice smiling and lines in front of the mirror:
I am fine.
No. I don’t miss him.
I am fine. Really, I am.
Brace self for more:
I thought you two were getting married! What happened?
Where’s your boyfriend?
Why did you come back alone?
Right before I cross the threshold of my room to face the world,
I snuff that little flame of hope and beat down every optimistic thought of you coming back.
I have lost count of how many days it has been since you left.
And while this stupid heart of mine continues to beat a hundred a thousand times a day,
I know that not a single one of yours is for me anymore.
Is it wrong?
To keep hoping that he would trip and fall back in love?