Wednesdays

Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.

My heart leaps.

It's dear Wednesday again.

The leaves shine a little brighter, my heart beats a little faster and my mind turns a little hazier.

I wipe the sweat from my palms. I straighten my skirt. I check if I still have some lipstick on.

It's Wednesday, after all

A moment when I allow myself to be a little selfish than usual - a day when I am allowed to hear your voice and memorize its every rise and fall. Minutes when I can stare back at you unashamed and speak to you with all honesty - except that I can't say how much I like you. Seconds when I hold on to the sound of your laughter and etch your smile in the canvas of my brain.

And after all, it's all I long to do when it's not Wednesday again.

Thursday - I see you in the crowd.
Friday - I hear your favorite song in the radio.
Saturday -  The late sunset is your favorite color.
Sunday - Writing about you in my journal.
Monday - I dreamed of you again.
Tuesday -  I remember your wish.

Then, I saw you on your white shirt walking towards me, one Friday night. My voice quivers from my throat. My world quakes a little every time I hear my name from your lips. I did my best to hide how clumsy I am in front of you.

Your eyes lit up from the lights of the stars I gave you, one Saturday night.  I don't know if you notice how I was shaking all the way through as I bravely stepped in your front door. I don't know if you saw how I leaped above my fears so that you won't be alone on the last eve of your 20's.

But it's not a Wednesday. I am stripped of my entitlement. I am out of my league.

I wanted more. Not just a Wednesday. I want to quietly sip my coffee with you on a Monday. I want to sit by you as we pass the roads overflowing with lights on a Tuesday. I want to hear all about your old adventures on a Thursday. I want to be there for you when you think you have no one to hold you on a Friday. I want to lay down under the stars with you and hear you hum my favorite song on a Saturday. I want to curl in front of the TV and say nothing at all with you on a Sunday too.

But that's not the case.

We live in a separate world when it's not a Wednesday. You made that clear for sure. I closed my eyes when you slammed the door. I shut my ears when I heard the silence. I covered my mouth when you said nothing but my quiet prayers.

After all, it's not a Wednesday.

I am doing my best to digest it. I am convincing my heart to ingest it. I am telling myself to swallow it.

But It's not a Wednesday.

When it is not, you are too far away for me to reach and too dangerous for me to touch. We revert back to strangers, shadows, a distant dream. Our worlds turn black and white, far apart, unrecognizable.

After all, it's not my dear Wednesday.