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