rust

I get your discharge,

~your need~ to feel wholly emotional,

~your want~ to be wanted.

It’s not the act as much as it is the intimacy.

It felt cold when I saw it.

I was numb when it was in front of me.

I was watching myself from afar.

~Your lust~ is playful.

~Your pain~ is an excitement.

Groping for watchful eyes,

someone to pay attention,

someone to make it have worth.

And I wonder the value,

the price of something so secret.

And I wonder when it will happen again.

Life gets in the way,

doesn’t it?

It tends to let us drift in our own directions,

 waiting for the inevitable,

waiting to finally drift apart.

It’s scary to see your life

tumbling down

in front of you,

spiraling out of control,

with no way to make it stop.

But that’s what

we’re all waiting for;

the inevitable end-

so quick and precise,

rust through taut skin.