How The Days Go By

Monday was dreadful. Slumped over on his desk as regret stirs up in the pits of his stomach and yet it was only 7:05 am. Going over his what-ifs, should-haves, and buts. No one knows why he was such a grump. It was rare to see him smile, but when he did, it felt so empty.

Tuesday was fresh. Unpredictable, but prepared. Her eyes almost had a twinkle of determination. She was also indecisive. Never knowing what mood to pick out as if it was stored in her closet. She was a quirky little thing.

Wednesday was patient. She was organized, timely and always seemed to be busy. She enjoyed the company of books and papers and the melody of her typewriter. A planned schedule from daybreak to sundown. She had a dry humor but she thinks it’s funny. Like everyone else, she was just…existing.

Thursday was tough. He was a ‘last-minute’ kind of guy. Procrastination was his companion. He hated her sometimes, but he could never let her go. She was part of his life and he’d be nothing without her. A little rebellious, but she kept him busy.

Friday was outgoing. Carefree and young. He lived by the beach and rode his convertible almost always. He was a sweet talker, a jokester, a careless lover. He lived for the warm breeze, cool air, and the night life. Oh, how he loved that.

Saturday was a wild child. Her and Friday have been tied to the hip ever since they can remember. She lived for the parties, drinking, and no-tomorrows. But she was a mess. A dark, empty void she had left that only a spark of a pipe can make her feel whole. She was reckless and full of mistakes, yet she had no regrets of it all.

Sunday had good intentions. She always saw the good in people. She had the most beautiful smile and a dimple that decorated her cheek. Her eyes captivating. But she has been hurt so many times. Too many times. Nonetheless, she had given undeserving chances to the man she loves because she is perfectly imperfect. Therefore, her and Monday don’t talk anymore, but she silently stood next to his side even though it seemed like he had moved on with the rest of his days. 

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741