Dust.

And so it spreads,
thicker than a viscous deception and more
violently
than an infidelity.
Curing all the innocence with a sliding tongue of deceit
and spreading the killer,
the new cancer
the fresh disease.
It shines like the fresh start the old testament foretold
and feels like cleared air after rain weary weather
finally fades,
but
sometimes the dirt becomes so thick you just want to get
dirtier,
just need to sink further into the grit,
itch to feel the filth in every eyes-open kiss.

The dust will settle in the same place as before,
and all those fingertips will those their points.