here are the minutes

I tried writing a poem a few months ago, reading back I feel ready to add to it:

I like the idea of us
For a minute...
I miss the feel of us, for seconds...
I remember what it was like and I miss the togetherness
Seeking comfort in the cold now
In the quiet;
I'm on the the apex,
about to fall on one of these sides
and neither seems right
The darkness climbs up
with icicles for fingers
rattling out a cold steam for breath
begging me to let go
give up and give in
as my heart gives out
relinquishes itself from desire
needs
and dances with mistakes
regrets and the like
we are criminal, a different beast
every time I feel the scratch of your
face against my soft skin
the part of me long thought deceased
lifts it's aged and exhausted head
and wonders if for a second
it might be revived...
only to rest weakly back down
as a dog too old to greet it's master
so is my hope so defeated and reluctantly apathetic
"Deception, A Beautiful Lie"