Bitten Lips And Lost Souls

I roll over and groan into my pillow, the loud noise from the bedside table ringing in my ears. I turn and place my hand on your shoulder. The alarm clock’s going off, but you’re not waking up. This isn’t happening, it can’t be happening, I won’t let it happen. I shake your shoulders violently, your head just flops to the left. I place my hand to your chest, no subtle beat. I look in your eyes and all I see is empty space.

I start to scream your name, “Kat? Kat?? KAT???” The tears start flooding down my color drained cheeks as I beg you to wake up, “k-kat please don’t do this to me . . . I need you.”

So I stay lying in the bed next to your stiff corpse weeping and pleading for you to come back but you never did. So I called them. They arrived in uniform, dressed you in white and wheeled you out of my life. Hysteria set in after a few hours and I started talking to you, dressing up in your clothes that were two sizes to small and plastering your make up to my skeleton face. The phone rings several times but I ignore it and continue with my charade. When night falls I crawl into your side of the bed, bury my head into your pillow inhaling your scent.

“Sweet dreams Kat.” I whisper to you.

“Goodnight Jess.” You reply.