Nobody ever misses me right away.

I have a tendency of making my way into parts of your life that you don’t notice until long after I’m gone.

You’ll think of me in the laundromat, when someone three washers down has the same fabric softener I had just washed my clothes with the night before our first date.

You’ll think of me at the coffee shop, when someone ahead of you in line asks for three sugars and two creamers, like I used to.

You’ll think of me when your sister shows up to your house wearing the same nail polish I did the first time you kissed the back of my hand.

You’ll think of me when you’re in the car alone and you realize you don’t turn on the radio anymore, ‘cause our silence used to be better than whatever was playing.

You won’t really realize it until it’s too late and I’m too far gone.

Until I’m so deeply embedded into your memory and intertwined into your everyday life.

You won’t miss me immediately.

It’ll take some time.