The hardest thing about losing you is that it didn’t just happen once.
I lose you every single day we speak when I realise you are no longer mine, and the days we don’t.
When I wake up in the morning and reach for my phone and hope to see a message that isn’t there, and when I go to sleep at night after I realise that the one person I want to talk to the most refuses to look me in the eye and has much less replied my messages.
And I lose you in all of the moments in between, in all the hours of silence that go by where I do nothing but think of you, wanting to call you, and then don’t.
I lose you when I watch certain films, listen to certain songs, and go to certain places that are all tainted with certain parts of you and how you make me feel.
And I used to think I could only miss you when I was alone, but that’s not true.
I miss you when I’m around everyone else as well. Because they are not you.
But you’re always there…somewhere.
I can’t not think about you. It’s only when I’m asleep that I get a break from it.
From thinking and wanting and missing.
But then, I wake up the following day, roll over, check my phone, see that you didn’t call and I just know I’m going to feel it all over again.
(someday in March)