January has issues with her mother, February is always talking about things he wants to do while March does them, April eats sweets and May pays for them, June is the oldest but not the wisest and July always has an opinion on everything. August never stops trying do the right thing, even if he doesn't always know what that is. September once saw something so sad, she never stopped crying. October holds the lift for anyone, vice-presidents and street-sweepers alike (for his memory, not for theirs) and November makes fun of him for this. December is tired but always hopeful. He has never once stopped believing.
Monday's obviously a bastard, quite literally as dad can't remember what or who he was doing. Tuesday's temperamental but ok as long as you stay on her good side. Wednesday doesn't say much and Thursday sometimes hums just to break the silence. They're in love. Friday's always wasted and she and Saturday hold each other tightly until their delirium fades.
But Sunday, Sunday knows she's the end. But she closes her eyes, and she pretends with all the strength in her tiny heart that really, she's the dawn.
I love your description of Friday and Saturday. It's almost bittersweet, but then again, it depends on what kind of memory it stirs. Awesome. :)
ReplyDeleteThat was beautifully written. :)
ReplyDeleteThis is gorgeous in a way words can't quite manage to express
ReplyDeletewow. Amazing!
ReplyDeletei wish i had something clever to say that could fully express how absolutely breathtaking this is but i find it quite ineffable. i'll simply say i was in tears before i even finished.
ReplyDeletethanks for the words, they're great
ReplyDeleteI think this is my new favourite.
ReplyDeleteI with I had the words to tell you how I feel.
But because I don't I will just say thank you.
You are immensely talented.
ReplyDeleteThis one is my favorite.
ReplyDeleteso amazing.
ReplyDeleteI wrote about Sunday yesterday, the day of roses and wine, of lilac kisses and holding hands, of dinners outside and feet pulsing the green grass.
ReplyDeleteA Sunday Kind of Love (etta james)
xoxo
Wow. wow. Amazing.
ReplyDeleteLOVE IT! But, I would swear January is a man.
ReplyDeleteDear December
ReplyDeleteI have stop believing that you are the sun.
You are not welcomed. Please leave.
but in the end, you all mean something and the world wouldn't be the same without each and every one of you.
ReplyDeletestunning...such sweet hope...
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. So so beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThis is the most amazing thing I have ever read from you. You continue to wow me with your amazing writing. You should really make this blog into a book.
ReplyDeleteWonderful and original. I liked the humming best - such a human thing to do when in love :)
ReplyDeleteAwesome-- this reminds of a love story that I was once told. The September is so true. You should read this dahling!
ReplyDeleteWhat if Sunday is the beginning instead of the ending?
ReplyDelete:)
ReplyDeletewow this entry is something extra special
ReplyDeletehats off to you! nice!
ReplyDeleteThank you.
ReplyDeletenyce! perfect description of sunday ;)
ReplyDeletevery neiltastic, i'm sure he'd approve. this ones got narrative, and more importantly, heart.
ReplyDeletehoroscope of time :)
ReplyDeletethis is quite simply,brilliant.
ReplyDeleteIain,that's just wonderful and inspiring in a way I cannot define.
ReplyDeleteMy favourite part is :
Wednesday doesn't say much and Thursday sometimes hums just to break the silence. They're in love.
I wonder why
this is perfect :) it's more than just words
ReplyDeleteThat last part is especially lovely.
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautiful
ReplyDeleteThis has become my new favorite. Brilliant! :) Seriously big thank-yous for all that you are.
ReplyDeleteThis feels like one of the best pieces yet to me, for some reason or another. It fees like I could believe every word.
ReplyDeleteGreat work again, guys! Love it!
Oh my, this is amazing!
ReplyDeletexx
This...aWEPOIAJWE;LKJD;VLKJNAWE
ReplyDeleteI can't comprehend how amazing this is.
The first day of the week is Sunday. Just so you know.
ReplyDeleteMaybe to you.
ReplyDeletevery creative thoughtful and so so real...beautiful really beautiful words :)
ReplyDeleteI love that last line: But Sunday, Sunday knows she's the end. But she closes her eyes, and she pretends with all the strength in her tiny heart that really, she's the dawn.
ReplyDeleteAh did you write this? I read it on On Long Road and missed the attribution so I will give you my feedback too :-) Sharp and insightful writing. I loved it, your words are well paced and full of momentum. Fantastic.
ReplyDeleteI did write it, on Tuesday and haven't read it anywhere yet nor do I know what On Long Road is, so if you've heard someone else reading it without attributing anyone, I'd like to know about it.
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoyed it, thank you for reading <3
This whole piece is wonderful, but as someone else has already said, the lines about Sunday are spectacularly beautiful.
ReplyDeletei love this..amazing.
ReplyDeletePostcript: the new Sun takes Sunday in his arms and rises, shining into dawn . . .
ReplyDeleteLovely =)
ReplyDeleteincredible :) this is definitely intriguing .. i like it a lot
ReplyDeleteNice :) My favourite so far.
ReplyDeleteI have never commented on anything, anywhere, so there
ReplyDeleteso true about september, its so me
ReplyDeleteAt times months seem like days. Days sometime months. Sunday is the dawn she does not pretend. Time.
ReplyDelete