Confusion

.It was a ménage a trois, One love locked in his head, One locked in his arms, And maybe in his bed. He walked a crooked path Between joy and despair Sometimes uncertain Which one was there. In his confusion thinking that both were the same, Calling the living by The other one's name. Holding her tightly weeping Tears of joy and relief Most often mixed with The tears of his grief. She held him close never Thinking of any blame For when a loved one is a Lover what's in a name. It was a ménage a trois And as far as she could see For the length of their love That's the way it would be.