I used to count the days before I met you,
not knowing what it was even for
I counted to seven and it was Sunday,
and I'd groan because on the morrow it would be back to one again

I didn't count the days after I met you,
because time flew so fast
colors struck me and it felt like there was
a thousand more important thing to take note of,
so why bother?
And I know, even if I didn't,
you'd smile,
take up the chalk,
and scribble the counts for me.

I didn't want to count the days after you left me,
because the days were long, and the sunshine left imprints in my eyes.
But I picked up your counts anyway, while boredom consumed my mind
in this space where you once existed

It's getting dull here.
Won't you come back?
Saw the counts today, and I think it's been long enough.
Do you miss me yet?

-an old poem and an old artwork-