Getting over you would be so much easier if we didn't live together.
I can hear your alarm go off at 5 am, your door opening, and your footsteps across the carpet that we bought together. You walk around the house naked (though in all fairness, I do as well), flirt incessantly, cook me eggs, do my laundry when I'm buried in books, and tell me all of your secrets.
You let me share baths with you and you slide your soapy legs around my waist. I put my arms around you when your anxiety spikes before your first shift of the week. You tell me to calm down when I freak out about an exam. When we buy groceries separately you text and ask if I'd like anything, or I call and ask if you're out of soy milk. Sometimes you come into my bed, and lay your body between my legs, and we just hold each other.
So all I can do is to fill my nose with blow, and forget how you smell.