she only came to visit on thursday mornings, when the dew was still fresh and the sky was a purplish-pink tint.
I still had a few more weeks left in the hospital, I've almost made a full recovery.
she'd knock twice before entering, and she'd light up the room with an idyllic smile.
bringing fresh flowers and a new get well soon card each time, signed by everyone still afraid to visit me.
she knew that I still wasn't able to speak, all I could do was write.
she'd still speak to me and I'd listen as she read her latest poetry and sing her favorite songs to me.
Her eyes would glisten from the cracks in the blinds letting in the most exquisite lighting I've ever seen before.
She could only stay for thirty minutes, and every minute felt like a millisecond.
It was time for her to go now, so she kissed me on the cheek and said
"I love you, I'll be back next week"
Just as she was walking out, I realized my window was open, so the door slammed shut when she closed it.
In an instant, I'd wake up and realize it was just a dream, consciously knowing that I couldn't wait much longer for her return.
Every time I wake up from the dream, I'd be weak in the knees and I would barely be able to talk.
The sky is still a purplish-pink, the dew is still fresh, the only difference is....
It's Thursday and she hasn't came to visit me yet.