By Arcassin Burnham


Kissing is like breaking depression in half,
saliva surging when tongues are involved,
temperatures rising , the heavy breathing is commenced
lighting a flame in my lungs , its gets electric with the tongue,
I guess you could say this is what the kids call bomb,
thinking where our bodies come from,
thrusting more like this is air pumped,
workings anyone could deal from,
tiring acts of touching where the kids come from,
body to body , its hot and its sweaty,
the tension is risen like bells at a wedding,
exploring a body is just an adventure,
but this nothing if you only stay strangers,
love in this equation just gets more better,
hot and steaming like we fight under weather,
but no one complains when they fight in the covers,
I don't know about you,
or what you think,
or what you know about love making,
but it just ain't true,
finding lustful ways drawn from sin and some virtues,
your views are distorted , they're getting so old,
humanity is what you should behold,
*** is not an object to play with , its the binding of two souls.

i asked the universe
for a favor but even
shooting stars didn't
know how, so i had
to keep thinking if
                              we were truly meant to be, we would be
                                                              ­                            by now.

sometimes i just feel like the words clot in my veins and the ink is spilled on my soul and my heart is ripped like the pages of my favorite notebook. my lips are the cracked leather cover from too many forced smiles and the light in my eyes is only the artificial light bulb i use at 3am so i can see what i'm writing. my verses are as repetitive as my endless reassurances, condolences, apologies. mother, i have nothing to be sorry for. my limbs are stiff like the spines of all those bound books i asked for for christmas, sitting somewhere in my room as a heap. i said i wanted to be a writer; i did not want to become my writing.

There's this glass cylinder full of water
inside my chest
it quivers and shakes lately
when people talk
and try to reach out
and touch
threatening to break and spill
green seaweed and red and goldfish
from my eyes down to my feet
to tangle around my ankles
and disappear into the shower drain
till I find new ones

when life finally quiets down
i hope you don’t think of me
as white noise

a song
i write it, weaving my heart's musings into it,
open my window,
and sing

and sing
i imagine my voice catching to the wind,
taking flight as a bird flutters to find a home,
on its way
to you

to you
the wind slows and the winter air
grasps the song i sing
it is torn from the sky and
my throat burns with negativeemotions
the choir of birds do not  mind
they carry their song onwards
but mine
mine
m ine
    mine,

i used to dream in black and white,
grays blending together the scenes that
spin spin spin
until i can't differentiate black from white.
i dreamt about shriveling flowers and endless hallways
and never being able to scream;
and then i met you.
suddenly i was dreaming in color,
a luxury i thought would never come to fruition,
flowers popping and life breathed back into trees.
i never knew how beautiful it was to have someone hold you at 3am,
to kiss your bruises and tell you your scars are angelic
even though the way you acquired them isn't.
i never knew how beautiful it was
to dream in color.

"You're really good at poetry!"

*"ha, I'm good at romanticizing toxic situations"