it’ll hit you in flashes.
no more good morning text,
no more goodnight kisses.
the sheets don’t smell like him anymore
and his toothbrush is gone.
you’ll miss the way his arms felt
the way they slid around your waist
after a long day.
how he kissed will haunt you.
you will feel the ghost of his lips
late at night when your only company
is the blinking red LED of the clock.
you will worry about him,
all alone in that house.
you’ll wonder at 2 am if
he too is awake and thinking of you.
you pick up your phone to call him
but think better of it.
you remember he’s not yours to take care of,
not anymore.
at 2 am it hits you.
he’s gone.
he’s really gone.
—  j.e.b. ((you didn’t think he was truly going to stay, did you?))