I don’t think about you all the time now.
Just 6 times a day.
Once after I wake up. The first thought of the day with a song you probably wouldn’t have heard in a long time.
Twice when I spot someone looking like you in the crowd and wait for them to pass by me only to make me realise that it’s not you.
Thrice when I randomly get the fragrance of your cologne in my room as if you walked in with your books and tea just like old times.
Fourth time when the sun is setting and I can’t find you by my side admiring the beautiful and messy day we had.
Fifth when I’m dancing in my kitchen as I prepare dinner for one listening to your playlist you never made.
And the last one before I fall asleep wondering if you would happen to snuck by during the night and wake me up with your raspy voice as your fingers trace my curves.
You’re almost like the dosage of medicine I take 6 times a day which regulates the heartbeats, normalises breathing and gives a constant boost of love required to survive the day.
But, lately, it has started to wear off it’s magic.
I think I need to change the dosage.