Four Days

I saw you on a Tuesday

Amidst a sea of bodies, a plethora of faces—

Faces lit up with liveliness yet holding no light for me—

An overcast sky, but the sun shone suddenly

When I saw you on a Tuesday.

 

Forget it, I thought,

But forgetting that face is like forgetting the stars—

Such an impossible and foolish feat;

On pitch black nights I will need the memory

Of when I saw you on a Tuesday.

 

I met you on a Wednesday

At a table full of people who made me feel alone;

I felt your approach intensely before you came

Like a railroad feeling a coming train—

You shook me when we met on a Wednesday.

 

A handful of exchanged words,

An apprehension that would sear at the touch—

I watched and was caught when I let my eyes roam,

And never before did I feel more alone

Than when I met you on a Wednesday.

 

The past flashed before my eyes

And left me as stranded as the present,

Which was a joy so great it felt like a void of sorrow;

My heart told me, “You’ll regret this tomorrow,”

But I already regretted meeting you on a Wednesday.

 

I missed you on a Thursday,

Drowning in the water I let slip through my fingers

When all I wanted was a drink—I watch it in my mind,

A silent film unfolding in black-and-white—

I missed my chance—and you on a Thursday.

 

Despair was deferred only by the hope

Of basking again in your Tuesday-light

And redeeming myself by reliving that Wednesday meet;

I will not let that Thursday repeat—

There was a glimmer of hope for a Friday.

 

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