indian-eyes
A painter, singer, & poet manqué. / / "No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world. We don't read and write poetries because it's cute. We read and write poetries because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, Law, Business, Engineering: these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry... beauty, romance, love— these are what we stay alive for." / —Dead Poets Society, 1989
She told me I was a *****
exposing my little secrets
to everyone who’s listening.
I ran to my room, locked the door
hearing murmurs in the hallway,
my whole body is shaking.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC
I wanna smoke a lot,
and forget about
everything that hurts.
I wanna smoke a lot,
so I won't hear
those hurtful words.
I wanna smoke a lot,
and let you taste
the nicotine on my lips.
I wanna smoke a lot,
right after we made love
under the sheets.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
And so,
I painted my nails
the black lacquer,
'cos they'll remind me
you are always here.
"Just like a rockstar",
you whispered softly,
leaving melancholia,
I live life in solitary.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:00 AM UTC
i bruised my knees
and inflicted scars
upon my skin
but nothing can compare
to the pain
caused by him.
—indialev
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
You opened up my heart
but you treated me like
I am nothing.
A delicate flower
that you picked—
now, slowly withering.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 11:55 PM UTC
You wake up from your sleep
and remember all the bad memories.
The hurtful past you tend to keep,
the sad moments, you reminisce.
You were as blue as the ocean
darling, you drown in sadness.
You feel every emotion,
you think they fill in the emptiness.
But, I want to prove you wrong
and take your sorrows away.
I want you to be strong,
behind you, I'll stay.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
On a summer of 2010,
I met this guy who wore a red cap.
He has an adorable smile,
he still had his teeth gap.
On a summer of 2011,
he had his braces.
"Real men wear pink.",
he says as my heart races.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 5:16 PM UTC
Poetry and Fine Arts
have always been
her best friend.
Everyday, she'd write
a poem or two and,
draw the visions
inside her mind.
At home, she's being
beleaguered with hurtful words
and goes to school late.
She jokes around
her friends while
they continue their
unfinished plates.
She loved mysteries
so much that
she became one.
Living with scars
and fears that
fills her mind
is what she had done.
—India
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
The girl on the subway
dropped the handkerchief
that was sitting on her lap.
------------
I picked it up
only to find out it has
splattered inks of black.
------------
She came to me,
mascara streaked down
from her sun-kissed face.
------------
Her pretty brown eyes
were like sunset and I swear,
I couldn't look away.
—indialev
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC