Without you

A Monday without you
Is like a Baroque piece
Where emotions just cease:
A day that runs irregular
Up the octaves of the piano
With each detached quaver.

A Tuesday without you
Is like a Classical chime
Where it keeps me in time:
A day that waltz through
Rhythmically with you
Jogging down my mind
After each four counts
That make a bar complete.

A Wednesday without you
Is like a Romantic rubato
Where being drunk in love
Is the only reason life is worth:
A day that hangs the moon
Magnificently up above
For me to glance
At this luminous balloon
And remind myself that maybe,
Just maybe,
You are thinking about me.

A Thursday without you
Is like twentieth century music
Where each note is a mechanic heartbeat:
A day that sweeps up tides
And invites a tsunami
That glides up the white keys
And crashes down
On the black.

A Friday without you
Is being deprived of music:
A day that drowns
Even the piercing dissonance
Into a whirlpool of emotions.

A Saturday without you
Is no art in my life:
A day that wilts flowers
Without your radiance;
A drought that dries up
My inspirations used to
Fuel these poems.

A Sunday without you
Is a trip back from Inferno:
A day that pulls me
Back to the living
With the thought of you
Finally returning.

A week without you
Is a breve in every bar,
A year in every day,
The despair in every forte.