I will always hate Friday’s

Frequently looked forward to Friday’s

It was the only day I could feel your skin

Your greasy palms rubbing the tension off my feet

A little tickle here & there

 

You were reluctant to come home this time

My sleeping ears could not be woken

By your pleas for understanding

 

Feeding my mood with sweet memories of you

Sleep was far from me this Friday morning

 

I thought of something nice

I cooked something nice

I slipped into something nice

 

I expected you home early

I called you to scold and yell

You calmly replied you were outside crossing the road

The next second I heard a thump and a scream

 

I ran outside to find you slain

Laying lifeless in a pool of your thick-red-liquid shaped like a circle

Surrounded by three heavily inebriated men

Who wailed at the misfortune of a little Friday fun

 

Now you’re gone and found a new home far away from me

Leaving me with the bitter taste of death

Maybe one day I can forgive myself

However, one thing will always remain

I will always hate Friday’s.

 

Written by

Ita

15 thoughts on “I will always hate Friday’s

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