wednesday

i was born on a wednesday.

you stopped caring so i tried to do the same.

on your birthday i’ll pretend i don’t remember,

you’ll forget mine.

a year later i’ll make ice tea without thinking of you.

i’ll talk about my favorite book to someone else

you’ll do the same.

we’ll both go to portugal with different people.

i’ll laugh about stolen lighters with my mom.

decades later your name won’t remind me of you,

you’ll have a different name.

on a wednesday i’ll build a home

you’ll know what goes in every corner

but you’ll never be welcomed,

you’ll never come to see it.

on a wednesday i’ll have my last 7 minutes of function

and as much as i would like to pretend

i know you’ll be there for a second.