She wakes at the sound of her alarm, some angry semblance of a crow that's just lost his prey

The familiar numbness of the cold hardwood floor bleeds into her unmanicured toes

And the awkward dance she does to return the cuff of her pants to her ankle where it belongs

She nibbles at the same breakfast - wheat toast with a teaspoon of butter -

And hopes that the scoop of sugar in her coffee will fuel her smile for the day

She passes strangers and friends, but keeps her distant gaze to the floor

Knowing, with one wrong move, her facade will cumble there, too

Her shoes left at the door, her belongings tossed aside

She slides her pain off with the clothes that hit the bathroom floor

She climbs into a steaming shower, not to relax her bones or stave the cold

But she enjoys the sting and burn of the boiling water as it hits her aching skin

She falls into that fort of pillows and sorrow

And again she will wake with the sound of the crow, to brave the day once more