The day after

The day after I always feel drained, emotionally, physically and mentally.

The day after I am empty inside. Lost and swirling in my own confusion.

The day after I’m in disbelief. How did we get here? Why did I say what I said?

The day after I want to take it all back. 

The day after requires a trip to Walgreens. I don’t have enough bandages or glue to repair my broken heart. 

The day after I can’t eat. Food seems tasteless without the joy you brought to my life. 

The day after I need to wear glasses. My eyes can’t see clearly. Puffy and swollen, strained and red. I’d rather close them and sleep this away.

The day after time moves slowly. Every minute without you is like an eternity. 2:41, 2:42, 2:43…it’s only mid day, how can I go on? Agony. Just let me curl up and die.

The day after everything reminds me  of you. The song on the radio, the license plate on the car in front of me, the smell of a random dude in the store, a box of cereal in the grocery store aisle, the sunset over the lake, the toothbrush in my bathroom, the empty space in my bed.

The day after I’m like a zombie. Walking through life, motionless. Dead. Pale. Dreaming of my previous life filled with color.

The day after I can’t find my words. You took them away with my breath and forgot to give them back when you left. 

The day after I can’t see tomorrow. I don’t feel today. I replay yesterday like a broken record in my head. 

Just make it go away. 

The day after tomorrow will be better than today.


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