While my life is mostly bleak
You are my favorite day of the week
My lips against your cheek made me think
I could do it again

These ******* butterflies again
They will soon turn into moths
And eat me from within

I will pick you flowers
place them in your hair
And listen to you sing for hours

But will they wilt?
When the days don’t feel the same
Will you fill up with guilt?

When you are sick of me
And I’m not the one you seek
Anymore, you will still be my
Favorite day of the week

When someone else takes up
The space in your bed
And the moths are all dead

I will collect their carcasses
And wilted flowers
Then keep them in a jar
With a label that will say

“Tuesday”

I’m sorry that I lost my way
That’s why I’m at your door today

I thought the road was calling me
And that there was so much to see

As time edged forward and further away
I knew in my heart I should have stayed

So now I'm standing at your door
With eyes cast down upon the floor

Thoughts telling me that you've moved on Convincing me that it's been to long

Your disbelieving distant eyes bestowed. My heart now belongs to the open road.


©

Second chances are pots of gold at the end of a rainbow.
But we treat them like a prize from a box of ******* jacks;
Cherished one minute, then the next we put it back.
Not taking things for granted is easier said than done.
But if you get a second chance, treat it like it's the only one