My Touch is that of Rust

Something that sprang out of a rambling

My touch is that of rust

My breath is that of age

With every day that passes

I welcome my decay

 

My lips still taste of poison

My love cuts like a knife

Come too close and let me near

I’ll disengage your life

 

Time is not my master

I bend it to my will

Gaze into these haunted eyes

If you seek a look that kills

 

My bones have grown far weary

And how the years have flown

Never once to stop and rest

Nowhere can I call home

 

But like a spider to a fly

Dancing in my web

Ere I find I’m drawn to life

Where there’s no room for the dead

 

So come and let me taste you

Though your skin grows cold and pale

With my ministration

Your mourners they will wail

 

My passion is a prison

And from it comes the grave

If you come alone with me

Your life will not be saved

Reviews

[Emerald Seas]

Well, I did say I'd read through all your writings, didn't I? Probably too late for your contest, but I find myself reading anyway.
There's a lot going on with this poem. Sadness, melachology, warnings, etc.
Jeez, I don't know if I should take as a warning, or in typical female fashion be intrigued! Let me think on that. I have my own analysis still going on! lol...
It's a great writing - makes your reader think - yet, I'm not exactly feeling the full dose of that warning coming through :) Feels more like a general statement. Maybe a passing pondering... hmmm