There is the day before and the day after.

The day before you'd poured sunshine into my cereal, brought me breakfast in bed and let the light shine through your eyes like I was the gold you'd been digging for your entire life. The day before you wanted to know if I would get teased about you, and I didn't say it wasn't necessary to worry, they were all already rooting for you. The day before I walked on a cloud, oblivious to the rain dampening my shoes like a warning sign. The day before you made me believe there was hope for me, for you, for us both to create a magical unicorn and ride into the sunset. The day before I was keeping you awake because neither of us wanted to stop talking. The day before we made plans. The day before you went out of your way for me. The day before I mattered. The day before I was so happy. The day before I walked down to the shop to buy your favourite cereal and spent the day watching sport to understand what you were talking about.

Then the day after arrived.

The day after, the cereal box sat the entire day at the same place and you forgot to text me. The day after I ran circles wondering if I should text you first and I caved. It took you 4 hours to write back two words. The day after I doubted for the first time in weeks. The day after I drank so I would forget the feel of your body curled into mine. The day after I was falling off the cliff you'd brought me to to admire the view and you weren't watching me. The day after you left me dangling because you were watching her. The day after, and even now, you are still staring away and I am still waiting for you to pull me up. The day after is as empty as a beach without an ocean, a winter without snow, a storm without thunder, a bed where I lay without you. The day after is my personal apocalypse where the memories of you crawl up like the undead from every direction. The day after is a desert and no oasis to quench my thirst. The day after is turning my phone on silent because I cannot bear my jumping heart every time it chimes and it isn't you. The day after is drowning my thoughts in alcohol until I cannot breathe and pray for it to be over. The day after is wondering when "after" becomes "now".