She's a beautiful woman.

When age left her side
she grew a bed of marigold
blooming yellow and red
catching sunshine in winter
and as the years tiptoed to her
a fresh bed of love she made
and lay thereupon newly wed.

A stare
will become
a scar
if you don't watch it
like a hawk
and if you let it
loose darkness
will swoop
through the rafters
in the loft
while you lie there
letting night
swell into a wound
like the red moon
and your eyes
will fill with vines
of poison ivey
itching to be blind
and wishing
to pour the pain
away forevermore.

it should be noted that girls don't always come from venus, that some boys might be a little deader than they were before they claimed you took their breath away.
some girls have barbed wire around their hearts, and others have white flags. some boys have touched more cigarettes than thighs, more blades in the bathroom sink than the ones in her shoulders. the city might whisper the name of one boy and tremble at the thought of another; a girl might  have a hit list with only one name on it — her own. some boys will **** just to say they lost their virginity and some boys will spend the rest of their lives making love as though they could gain it back; some girls have lost their tears and sweat in the upholstery of the same car that might belong to one of these boys — and some of those same boys are sweaty handprints on the backseat windows while others are fingerprints on your throat, but no matter how you look at it, he will always leave his mark, won't he?
it should be noted that some girls will miss you like hiroshima playgrounds miss the laughter of young children, but others will miss you like an 11:30 flight at 11:31, and i bet you never knew that some boys will never tell you that they miss their father just as much as some girls calling everyone else 'daddy' except for the one they truly need; you'd never believe me if i said that some girls look at the night sky where they used to see their reelection in the stars, but now only see another broken mirror.
it should be noted, that not all boys are from mars.

The moment was brief
But I saw through your cracks
And saw your missing pieces

Behind that mask of yours
Behind that smile you love to wear
Is a child drowning int its own tears
A soul in need of fixing

There's no need to hide your broken pieces
I want to put you back together
I can help you

The ecstasy of our embrace
Can be the glue that holds you together,
The soil that can make your grow
I can be your nurse
The artist that decorates your soul
With the beauty embedded in your broken self

With your shattered pieces
We can make something beautiful

there was a boy
about 16
he found the love of his life
or so he had thought

there was a boy
about 20
she left him to die
on a sleeting february night
walking the barberton street

a year later
there was another boy
in the same body
21
who made two decisions

to love
and to serve

there was a girl
age 18
who met the boy
far away from her

she was him

they talked
they played
but he had to leave for a little bit

a little bit turned to a long bit
he saw her struggle
he kept trying
it didnt work

he kept waiting

he kept waiting

he kept waiting

he kept waiting

she appeared

he made his move

she took him back!

she made her choice
he'd made his
________
there might be more
than a mile or two
from here to there
but really
its only the distance from his camera
that keeps him in focus,
right?

_________

By Arcassin Burnham


Lady for your information I don't need a phycologist
To reveal my mind,
My personal discretion is not any of your business,
I really don't have the time,
Talk is so cheap in America that in anywhere else it would
Cost a mill,
Guess that's why this generation of people may extort , ****,
Sell and steal,
Reputation still at its peak and I'm more wise than anybody
Here,
So if you're thinking you could break my silence to *******
Then enforce the fear,
Mixed opinions and doubts about everything I do intrigues you to
The core,
But I have light deep inside of me while taking me home and snippeting
What's in store.

There was a handmade cake on my table
and a letter with immature hand:

I start with this
but know that
whenever and wherever I bake a cake
you'll be in my mind.

It tasted not that sweet
I remember
and she was never to make another
in my corners of bitter December.

I have no other Christmas memory.

There couldn't be.