I Want To Listen To You Every Day Of The Week

I want to listen to you on Monday. I want to listen to you talk about your hectic day at work, about your annoying coworkers, about your lunch hour and about the projects you are working on. I want to listen to you talk about your achievements, your accomplishments, your ambitions, your goals and your future.

I want to listen to you on Tuesday. I want to listen to the stories about your family, the memories of your childhood and the struggles you had growing up. I want to listen to you talk about your friends, the ones you still talk to, the ones you no longer stay in touch with, the ones who hurt you and the ones who stood by your side. I want to listen to who you are as a friend.

I want to listen to you on Wednesday. I want to listen to the music you like and the words that move you. I want to listen to you sing even if you can’t follow the note. I want to listen to the songs you’ve written when you were alone, when you tried to be artistic, when you didn’t even know you were trying. I want to listen to your melody; to your words.

I want to listen to you on Thursday. I want to listen to your thoughts. Your complex, intriguing, deep and intrusive thoughts. I want to listen to your thoughts about life and how your mind connects the dots. I want to listen to your thoughts about people and if you think they’re beautiful. But more than anything, I want to listen to your thoughts about yourself and if you truly like who you are when no one is around.

I want to listen to you on Friday. I want to listen to your heartbreak, your bad romance, your painful love stories and the one that got away. I want to listen to how you used to love and how you love now, how you used to care and how you care now and if the heartbreak has changed you at all. I want to listen to you talk about love and what truly touches your fragile heart.

I want to listen to you on Saturday. I want to listen to you open up after a few drinks, after the stress of the week is over, after the tough stories have been told. I want to listen to your laugh and the times you went crazy. I want to listen to your jokes and all the funny things that happened to you. I want to listen to you unfiltered, unplugged and unreserved. I want to listen to your vulnerability and the softness in your voice when you speak from the heart.

I want to listen to you on Sunday. I want to listen to you on Sunday morning when you are happy and relaxed, still trying to remember what happened the night before. I want to listen to you on Sunday evening when you are fretting about the busy week ahead and the obligations you have. I want to listen to your moody and agitated voice and try to calm you down with mine. But mainly, I want to listen to you on Sunday night, when you are not saying anything at all, when you are quiet, when you are tired, when you are pre-occupied, when you are restless and when you don’t feel like saying a word. I want to listen to you when you say nothing at all.

And when the sun comes out, I’ll be happy to listen to you all over again.