People always say that it hurts at night and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3am is the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken. But sometimes it’s 9am on a Tuesday morning and you’re standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the toast to pop up. And the smell of dusty sunlight and earl gray tea makes you miss him so much you don’t know what to do with your hands.
But what if I never get over you?
What if I continue to wake up every day of my fucking life & want you so badly that my bones shake so much that they feel like they’re going to break?
What if I keep waiting for a call or a text or a sign from God that never comes?
What if you were the one but I wasn’t?