This morning...

This morning it was hard for me to get up. Rise from my empty bed... Walk through my day... Being here. The sun touching my face, where Mr. Wrong left his imprint. A pulsating red wound. A rejection that has torn me. Left me starving. Without salvation.

I look down at my hands. I can see the bones beneath my skin. They look fragile, temporary, stiff from holding on. I'm holding on so tightly. To the last shreds of beautiful memory. To a future unknown.