Love carries a little lust in tow,
There’s some lust in love
and lust is tinged with love,
Fraught with uncertainty
it wanders into the risky unknown.
Love is something for the morrow,
It begins with the quest for beauty
and ends up enticing the senses,
ruffling the calm of thought and emotion.
Love is a pathway to perfect felicity
But is unable to separate
the tangled strands of
truth and speculation.
Love grips you like a whiff of scent
caresses you like the petals of a rose,
then draws blood like a thorn.
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