07:03 You're reminded of good morning texts and cheap body spray, and the way he'd knock before opening the door even though he had a key.
08:29 Your skin crawls when "sweet disposition" comes on your radio. Not because you hate him, but because you haven't let him go.
12:43 You find his grey flannel in the back of your car.
17:02 You're reminded of his two full time jobs and how he always had time for you.
22:57 every playlist on your spotify is one that he made and now you have to listen to his favorite songs while you don't sleep for 10 hours.
23:56 You're trying to remember the difference between bitter and broken.
08:42 You can't decide if your bed feels half empty or half full.
12:10 Your stomach turns and you're not sure if it's because you're hungry or lonely.
21:15 It's been fifteen whole minutes since you thought about him... and that's fourteen more than yesterday.
19:44 You stumble into your house and your mom asks how your day went. You say "fine", but not even you believe that.
19:50 Your father asks you where you've been for 2 days. You say "Lost, where else?"
22:51 You decide it's time to "delete" his voicemails, but instead you listen to them for hours thinking about how his voice makes your knees weak.
12:52 You haven't eaten since Monday because your stomach is full of knots, but not the good kind.
21:25 You're trying to remember the music you loved before you met him.
21:01 You're making friends with the splintered, wood floor of your bedroom because you can't physically make it up to your bed.
21:34 The ground begins to shake. You can't tell if the world is crumbling or it's your knees trying to carry you on.
22:19 James Vincent McMorrow echoes softly while you write yet another poem about him. It's the third day and you're running out of pages.
09:49 You yell at yourself for not saying something sooner, for not holding him tighter, for not looking at him longer.