By Arcassin Burnham

Look what you've done to me,
I can no longer smile,
I can not feel your touch,
Not even for awhile,
I like the flow of your hair,
Even though that's not my style,
It's you I can not bare,
But I was the golden child,
Golden Child,
The glass falls from the bar right
Behind me,
Devil's nector falls to intimacy,
Shared a cardiac arrest in the backseat,
Stole it from my chest and the next morning
Gave it back to me.