Getting Over

I'm going to let the universe do its thing. But I don't know what to do with myself.
I pour a glass of wine then dance around til I am hot and sweaty and high. Got a good book and got all in it, tried a little yoga for a minute, but it won't let go. The more time I spend alone, the more I want to talk to him. Ask him if he'd still be my friend. Ask him if there's still a chance. Can we at least still go see Bilal? Tell him a joke, hear that laugh. I didn't intend such a clean separation. It makes no sense. And while I look fine, my surroundings don't. My apartment is a fucking mess, a reflection of my thoughts. I have too many love songs in iTunes. Once again my bed feels too big.
I don't like this part. I don't like this part. I want him around. I don't like this part.