On days like Mondays you’re far away… You probably can’t even leave your cosy bed to come and bother me.
“Arriving at my home town after so long makes me feel nostalgic and a little broken.”
On days like Tuesdays you’re almost at my door… You probably couldn’t find the right words to say and returned home.
“I am but a wind passing by an old abandoned place called home”
On days like Wednesdays you’re on a journey… You probably don’t know where to find the right words for your sentences.
“Sometimes I convince myself that I didn’t miss you… the rest of the time I know I’m just fooling myself”
On days like Thursdays you’re knocking my door… You’re probably wishing that I’m away because you’re not ready with your newly bought words.
“What would we talk about if we met after all this time? Would we yet again make promises to break?”
On days like Fridays you’re praying… You’re probably asking your words to make sense and the butterflies to calm down.
“I am but a cry echoing through walls so thick.”
On days like Saturdays I’m missing you… You probably don’t even know why I came back. Everyone deserves a second chance.
“Who was I before you? Who am I after?”
On days like Sundays we’re dining… You look at me like I’m your happiness.
“What was it like? Happiness…. How long did it last?”
Lost 
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