Your presence gave me chills on Sunday.
By Monday my body ached from your grip.
On Tuesday you had me in your death roll.
On Wednesday I pulled myself up off the floor and hit you with the doctor’s best shot.
I out ran you on Thursday but on Friday I succumb to exhaustion from the battle.
Now it is Saturday and I can feel your grip weakening.
Sunday has arrived and you are still hanging on.
Come Monday, it will be alright. I will have spent seven days in a haze and I will not want you by my side.
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