They ran from existance,
though they existed as two,
where none could save them
from where kisses consumed.
Engulfed by their senses,
entralled by their being.
Uncovered,
discovered
promises were held
captive in hearts
united,
and seperate.
Love not an object,
no more than a gist,
was completely intoxicating
the two fused souls.
Were there souls to fuse,
they would have been named empty.
Though presently,
filled;
the gist existed in all parts
of the Siamese beings,
and was glowing now,
like neon,
lit by realization.
Uncovered,
discovered,
love,
not an object,
but a gist.
Existance,
not a fact,
but a passing thought,
intense,
in it's evanescence.
