Dust

The dust from me
permeates the air
and up your nostril
and on your hair.

Deep in your lungs
light it descends
and gets you used
with what I am.

You get a taste
of DNA
and wonder why
you feel that way.

Our dust is skin
ground by the time
that passes by
as we lay down.

It's simple love
the type that hurts
the type that heals
and goes nowhere.

The dust from you
permeates the air
and up my nostril
and on my hair.