I am amazed at your innocence,
Why do you claim, you do not know?
Know that my Friday begins with the curve of your waist.
Know that my Saturday dawns with the depth of your breast.
Know that my weekends do not ever end because they get lost,
Into the vales and hills of your rich youthful blast,
Monday seeps in between your lips and mine,
Behaves as if it was born without time.
The week throughout you behave as a solution of whroom,
Why do you lie, when your Soul waits in my bedroom?