I see her, once a week, every week, for three months so far. I saw her once a week, every week, for years before that. She is beautiful. When I first saw her, I didn't think so. Now it's all I can see. That beautiful face, with beautiful eyes. Beautiful hair and a beautiful laugh. When I started wondering who I am, I started wondering who she is to me. I love her. But I don't know how. A week rolls by, then it is that blessed, glorious Wednesday again. The day I see my love. I don't know when I started seeing other girls this way. I don't even know how I see other girls. But I think I love her. And I think I want to be more than friends. But I don't think I can tell her. Another week blows by. A week of company without feeling; joy without happiness. I love everything she does. Everything she says. Wednesday again. This week we share the same music. I hear her beside me. Two voices singing as one. Two souls joined in blissful harmony. I wonder if that's what she hears. It is all just words? Just notes? Am I just a voice? Do I matter? Could she ever love me like I love her? I want to find out, but my soul is too afraid. Admitting it to her would be admitting it to myself. Something I'm not ready to do. If I'm wrong, will she be heartbroken? Could she ever forgive me? I don't want to use her, just to find out who I am. I'm not important enough for that. Not compared to her. Never compared to her. Thursday. Friday. Last week I gave her a present. Saturday. A white lily missing one petal. Sunday. Confusion. Inaction. Can't say anything. Have to say something. Monday. If I told her, what would happen? Would she be changed? Tuesday. Could she love me? Today. I arrive at the theatre. Look for my love. She's not here, I guess. Or maybe I just don't want to see her. I walk to my chair. On it, atop my music, lies a single, slightly wilted, white lily, missing one petal. Her message is clear as day to me. The flower, placed there with so much care, such loving hands, laughs at me, for figuring it out so easily. She was probably afraid I wouldn't understand. My soul fills with an emotion I can't quite place. Message received, my love. Message received.