By Arcassin Burnham

Had A Basic Instinct for expressing,
Mortal feelings,
And being immortal is unappealing,
Wishing and hoping for a compelling love,
To gather all of my barrings,
Lips prints on my skin for some
Compassionate healing,
At make-out point,

On my hands and knees begging to the heavens
For a special kind of human being to set my heart
Up in flames,
The extra clingy kind of woman worthy enough,
And excellent at putting other woman to shame,
At make-out point,

So as I sit alone,
I see the moon is full like born again roses,
Only to look up again and see something crashing
Down like the hottest chunk of the sun,
I had to see this for myself,

At make-out point.