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anguish, and indifference.
It is the source of life
and yet a bringer of death.
It is a conundrum,
a drug as addictive as any other.
I wouldn't trade it,
for anything in the world.
It gives my life meaning,
it brings me hope,
and it tears me apart,
all at the same time.
Give me real and painful love
before pleasant dishonest lust.
Love doesn't die.
It grows and evolves.
Lust, only burns bright and dies.
Love strengthens and grows,
it forces introspection.
Lust is static, lacking meaning
beyond immediate physical pleasure.
Give me love, for lust, I do not wish to know.
