would be a tad too late. Second coming of Christ is not to be tomorrow I guess. The day I get over you, I'll not hate the smell of deodorant I gifted you. The day I get over you, I'll learn how to speak to computers too. The day I get over you, sunrises won't hurt my eyes. The day I get over you, I will learn how to play Taylor Swift's I Forgot You Existed and Clean, on my uke and I won't cry. The day I get over you, the night sky won't remind me of how I sneaked in your room and you sneaked in my playlist, in my drafts, and in my prayers. The day I get over you, the evening chai will not remind me of the sun setting in your laughter. How my day was incomplete without your laughter. The day I get over you, I won't remember myself through your eyes, as weak, instead I'll see myself as brave and you as a coward.
