Weekend Love

It is seasonal.
It comes and goes so casually.
Errant and illegal trysts,
Command the weekend, deadening reason.
Errant culprits, brimming with purchased lust,
Occupy the city’s lodgings.
It is a weekend love.

Avid and amorous agendas,
Claim purpose,
hurling erotic intrigues her way.
Saturday is hazed in crimson and wanton debauchery. In aplomb, the drinks flows copiously. The coquette wheedle more love from the john.
It is a weekend love.

Sunday comes,
Like a lark, shy but loaded with deep meaning. The spent night jetsams regrets. Love has waned. Love is gone. Tapered sorrow feuds repugnant regret. Weekend whims flares distant, brief and lost memories.
Monday morning is a punishment.
It is a weekend love.

© Copyright 2012 Ayoub Mzee

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