The Seven

she is waking up next to your lover while the sun streams through the window. she is frying morning eggs and battling the toaster, coffee on the front porch and baby blue skies. she is sunday.

he is empty theaters and dust curling in the air, popcorn squeaking as it's squelched beneath your foot. he is monologues shouted into an empty room and arias aired to dead space. he is monday.

she is highlighters and graph paper and calligraphy; she is neat buns with pencils stuck through them and constantly worrying frowns. she is organized, prioritized, and systemized. she is tuesday.

he is midweek blues, laying on your couch and wondering how it's not the weekend already. he is the rain pat-pat-patting as it falls on the pavement outside, and he is cloudy light filtering through the window blinds. he is wednesday.

she is stardust and wanderlust, maps in her hand and planets in her eyes. she is sitting by the train tracks just because. she is colorful road maps with push pins stuck in them and hours spent stargazing out her window, thankful she has the chance to be a part of something as spectacular as the universe. she is thursday.

he is flashing neon lights and beating hearts, pumping arms, full of adrenaline. he is city lights reflected in the puddles on the pavement, messy make out sessions in the backseat and laughing until your throat is hoarse. he is friday.

she is cobblestone streets and overgrown gardens, vintage clothing and cat-eye sunglasses. she is the sounds of jazz wafting through the summer air and nodding hello to sleepy stars. she is saturday.

which are you?

xo evelyn