But They

A fair physicality, sophisticated and
dense with the consequences of drawing the eye.
She recites herself slowly, speaking to just
a friend that gives her room for wiles.
She sees him looking, he sees her observance;
despite it all and nobody's caring.
They were such pairs of hormone, chromosomes;
a flux of things that nature's given.
But she the spoken, vicious rile
that sets aflame a right of rights.
But he the token, lulling pile
of junk that sets and rusts a while.
But they the torrid, writhing means
to the ends without a purpose -
But they the morbid, pining need
that cause two threads to join together.
So though they may not stop and greet
the other with a word or hand,
they may, despite their new-found need
find a way to be.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I'm a little wasted!

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