Spirits in need near the edge of lust

Spirits in need
Under crumbling bridges.
Bring back whatever it is you stole;
My love, my lust, my gentle touch.
Iridescent stars light the way
Shining on – and guiding our lost minds.
Souls meeting in silent understanding,
Intuition tells us what we need to do.
Our selves lose importance
Near the edge of lust.

(could this poem be an acrostic?! Yes, maybe, certainly, it is!)