Cavities

There is nothing to worry about
the wind blows all the dust around
just as it begins to settle.
It's not about to keep still
it never does
it gets in your eyes
your hair
lungs
and you could even feel it
as it grinds against your teeth.
This dust
thinly spread through out
is the only thing left
of the past.
We once danced on clouds
made of sugar
caressed lips
numbed with lust
but in the end
it all turned to this.
A finely refined dust
that grinds against my teeth
to remind me
you were once here.