Coming Home

I saw Harry on a Sunday. It was a bad Sunday. Cold, grey, unrealistically long. It was the kind of Sunday that had me feeling stuck. Maybe even paralyzed as I sat down, my mind spinning, as I remember.

Harry left on a Thursday.

Harry had someone new on a Monday.

Harry left for his world tour on a Wednesday and came back on a Tuesday.

Harry and I used to spend time together on Fridays. Harry proposed on a Saturday.

Harry fucked us over on a Sunday.

I saw Harry on a Sunday.

I lost my mind on that same Sunday.

Notes

Here we go xx