Sunday comes with a headache; alcohol and cigarettes have been a new remedy in this house as of late.
Monday is arguing and accusing; he did this and I did that.
Tuesday owes apologies; he sings his apologies ‘til the cows come home and I just rub his face, letting him know that everything gon’ be alright.
Wednesday warrants making love; I kiss every inch of his sorry ass and he caresses me ‘til I forget what he sorry bout’ in the first place.
Thursday brings quiet; me sitting on the couch with my drink in one hand and remote in the other. Him standing at the phone, smiling and talking in a hushed tone. And I know.
Friday is more screaming; him walking out the door with nothing but a stack of cash and a high spirit. Me screaming, and beggin’ him to tell me where the hell he thinks he’s going. Him telling me he’s “Goin’ bout’ his business”.
Saturday reminds me of Sunday; I set my liquor and my smokes down on the table, and wait until Tomorrow comes, so we can do it all over again.
