Week After Week

Monday through Friday, I worked and prepared for my life.

Saturday through Sunday I came to you while you only used your dyeing machine to make alterations to my heart.

Monday through Friday I fertilized my life to create a crop of a future, or at least the fruit of dangling nightmares.

Saturday through Sunday I gave my all to you while you inserted weeds in my brain and also in your mouth.

Monday through Friday I called every day after, even if it was two jobs while you only gave me ringing headaches.

Saturday through Sunday your untalented body only called me to bed.

Monday through Friday was for responsibilities.

Saturday through Sunday were days of losing myself

Monday through Friday gaining patience, nerves and loss of my unlocked words and options

Saturday through Sunday you tried to rob all the nerves until there was only one left so that I had something to plant and regrow.

Monday through Friday people tried to tear at my spirit because they dug theirs in a grave a long time ago

Saturday and Sunday you expected me to crochet your heart together when I hardly know how to sew.

Monday through Friday I emptied my gas tank for a check that mattered but was useless

Saturday through Sunday I emptied my willingness to be happy

Monday through Friday I struggled to give my life a face lift

Saturday through Sunday, I grappled at how hard it was to dig out the racists opinions out of your family’s mouths.

Monday through Friday my mind was chasing love but in desperation for compassion like a toddler who just learned that new freedom

Saturday and Sunday I ran around my mind of how someone could love someone in such a minuscule fashion like when a parent comes to parent-teacher conferences in pajamas

This changed one Thursday when I went under the knife

Weeks changed where I had to pass my class on self value and respect

Monday through Friday you never called or helped

Saturday through Sunday you ignored and striped down to the monster you really are

Monday through Friday the novels turned into short stories

Saturday through Sunday the sonnets became tired, draining and dry like your dreams.

Monday through Friday I worked on myself

Saturday through Sunday I created new dreams and mentalities

Monday through Friday, I earned the right to own my heart

Saturday through Sunday I took back and walked away on my own, but with all of my alone

Monday through Sunday it’s my own

Monday through Sunday I will keep and share with a true heart… one day