keep telling yourself,
all it is it lust,
because pure love cannot rust.
and when he touches you, you'll melt
but those fingers you can't trust
when all they feel with
are the throes of lust
when the snow flies in the winter winds
creating something like a frigid autumn mist
all they are is two unhealthy kids
looking for something to love, waiting for something to miss
your name dances along my wrists
among the scars i left in your wake
the same floats around when we kiss
can this lust truly put lives at stake?
do we pick up the pieces
or let them fall, down, down, further down
sometimes your words pierce- those meaningless teases
and i get lost, lost in the sound
because in an isolated system, entropy only increases.
where skin meets skin
and entanglement grows
lust will begin
to make it's darkened throes