Two

Of love and lust, two that I covet,
yet they know of each's presence,
together they have met, but knowledge
sometimes hidden, overt to each other,
but yet both not accepting an existence
of each, and their role.
Separation is both needed and not,
deception never used, diffusion
transparent, together but asunder.
A life split, an aching deep for presence
fire of loin, bereft of heartfulnesss,
Lust has its needs,
love steps behind a veiled curtain,
espies reckless passion, shallow and brief.
Lust sees love's intoxication, the
obligation of two kindred souls,
ambivalent of love's lot, yet silently
yearning for concurrent receptivity.