You catch yourself drowning in the scent of him, a stranger walks past you, wearing the same aftershave. You will want to burn the smell out of your nose.
Day thirty one.
His favourite song will come on the radio while you’re driving, you’ll swerve and pull over because you can’t see the road through your tears.
You thought you would have found solace in the arms of others. You will wonder why your head doesn’t rest right in the crook of someone else’s elbow. You will wonder if it ever did before you met him.
Day fifty five.
You will find an old cinema ticket from your first date. You will search your mind for the first signs of trouble. Should you have known?
Day sixty one.
You will dream about him. You will roll over to touch his face and find the other side of the bed cold. You will sob yourself to sleep.
Day seventy six.
You will wonder if he still talks in his sleep and if he still rubs his nose three times after he sneezes.
Day seventy seven.
You will search for comfort at the bottom of a liquor bottle. The taste in your mouth will not be his.
Day one hundred and twenty two.
His name won’t make you ache anymore.