My dear, you are a deity,
That isn't yet included
In any thesaurus.

I hate Sundays,
with all of my heart.

Especially nights,
for they tear me apart.

My reflection is empty,
it escapes from my soul.

It warns me that on Sundays,
I have no control.

The toll it takes,
lying in bed.

Knowing tomorrow,
my dreams will be dead.

I really hate Sundays,
but didn’t use to.

Maybe I wouldn’t,
If I could have you.

Sparks don't necessarily
lead to love just because
they ignite a fire,
sometimes all that burns
is the neighborhood...