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Love/Lust
Gaol.
Love.
Ana-miann.
Lust.

Which is real and which is a figment of our imagination?
Is there such a thing as love, or is it only mutual lust?
The questions echo through my mind.
Love can be real, love for parents, love for siblings.
Love for a friend, like a sister or brother.
For the world we live in.
For someone who completes you.
Lust can also be real.
Lust after a celebrity.
A co-worker.
A family member.
A friend.
Countries brought to the brink of war.
Families torn apart.
Friendships ruined.
All for the need to state the burning desire deep inside.
Touches that grow warmer, bolder.
Quiet sigh.
Quiet scream.
Kisses given, kisses taken.
Against your will, then its lust.
If no one can prove it, it’s love.
Give something, and expect something to be taken.
First boyfriend.
First kiss.
First time.
First loss.
Last mistake we’ll ever make.
Years from now, we look back and see.
It was lust then.
Later on, it was love.
Soft sweet gentle.
Not as hot or passionate.
But caring and calm.
Gone now.
Replaced by something deeper.
Lust is real.
Love is real.
Both wait for us.
Pick your path.
Pick your poison.
Pick us.