I spend a lot of time in my room since you’ve been gone. I mean, not in a depressing way. (Maybe a little bit in a depressing way). I go to school, I spend time in the lab, I walk dogs, I take myself out for coffee. But when I’m home, I’m in my room. It’s the place I feel your absence the least. This is our bed. I sleep by the wall every night even though you’re not here to occupy the other side. I wear your too-big pajama pants and too-big t-shirts to sleep. I see the print I got you every morning when I flip the calendar. When I’m feeling lonely, I uncap your cologne and take a whiff. I write to you.
I wish you were for me to sprawl all over in the living room while watching a movie. To indulge me by sitting on the toilet and watching a youtube video while I wash my face. To wait patiently in the shower with me while I hog the scalding water and take too long washing my hair. Cooking is a chore without you. I stand at the stove and all I can think about is you sliding your arms around my waist.