Dust

Delicate, delightful, Wonderfully pure. Only rightful To be drawn by the allure. To hold you lightly, softly Gently to caress, To comfort when things go awfully And pull you from distress. All that I could want, just that. More than I should hope? Possibly, when you look at How I always lead down a slope. Always to start as a trickle And seemingly infinitely small Until the issues are no longer fickle And we’re stuck in a free fall. Diving quickly into a version worse Than who we were when it all started. It seems to be my own wretched curse To inadvertently twist up the whole- and good-hearted. I’m sorry I’m as poison And weaken with my touch. I’m sorry for such a full cup When it doesn’t take much. I know you were strong, made of iron But I’m oxidizing, rust. I likely should have warned you, All I breathe on turns to dust.