They both were different,
But still their bonding was magnificent.
Love loved togetherness, dependence and not just acquaintance,
While all that was insatiable for lust, he wanted something else, without any expectance.
As the pages of the story book turned over, the story progressed,
Love got attached but lust was obsessed.
Obsessed with some wild idea, some wild imaginations,
He made his point, did some calculations.
He said, though I am busy, but for you my dear I have a suggestion.
Let me be clear, I don’t need anything,
It’s just to help you, I want to do something.
I am alone, you are lonely,
Let’s be friends, but no expectations surely.
Love pondered over the offer,
She so wanted to be together,
She wanted to talk, she wanted to share.
Love was like a dream, and Lust was a loveless reality
Was it on side of love or Lust , but certainly offer or acceptance was infirmity.
Lust wanted to be clear, he reminded her, of no attachments, of no commitments,
It will be all temporary, nothing permanent.
She wanted to take a chance, she lighted a candle of hope and said yes,
Hope, attachment, loyalty were the string she wanted to harness.
She tried to read the story further, but could not read even a chapter,
her pain was hidden behind her fake laughter,
No dream of her was watered,
she wanted to be kissed on forehead,
in open she wanted to walk with hand in hand together,
and not kept inside as a secret forever
she wanted to be introduced as Love,
her feelings were as pure as dove,
But It was all about Lust, no love, no attachment
In everything Love was lost, it was like harboring resentment.
With a heavy heart she decided to close the book;
marked it as abandoned, so that again she may not look
He flew away like smoke in the air, as if it was never there,
But Love was left with another string attached to her
She misses him, she wants him and she wants Love,
But nothing like look-alike of love.