You cant tell that behind my red lipstick
And matching clothes I wear a secret
I live out of a bag, but not out of regrets
My life is a story that no one had the time to read yet
Its deep, long but filled to the brim in secrets
Someone sees me and wouldn’t believe me
When I say
I am
homeless
Life happens and that’s okay
I took a chance and it didn't go my way
And I walk through a autumn day and see homeless people
Just
Like
me

I walk through the wit past the deer head painting on the bridge
A homeless man who always sits says
Good morning
I give him a grin and I can tell it made his day
Some kinda sad bearing down, as it begins to rain

I remember when I was moving out into the world
Boxes packed,rain fell in sheets
I gave out boxes of coats, and hope for warm feet
And someone said it was nice of me
Something
died
in me

Would you not do the same for me?
What happened to humanity?
I wonder what would happen
if my friends were different
if a couch wasn't an option
I'll move on then
I see myself in an old mans crazed eyes
As he sits at the bus station voided and deprived
And something inside of me dies a little
When everyone sees
With cast away eyes
Difference in a little
lipstick
Age
Time
A little more life
That didn’t go right
Without this break I wouldn’t have got
The full time job
My way back on top

And they key to his heart
Is as simple as socks
You should look away
Feel some kind of shame
You can at least say good morning
Remember his name
or at least see him as human
I wonder what would happen
If I didn’t have red lipstick
Life had chewed me up a little longer
Would you walk past me
In your Cold steel armor?
homeless
or hopeless
you pick the title

i am not a poet.
poets are the sad ones awake at three a.m. mourning over the sad loss of their lover.
poets are the ones yearning to love, and to be loved the same.
poets are beautiful, dangerous and tragic. every word that they speak is a dagger in your side, the slow knife that cuts the deepest.
poets are the ones who realise the power of words, so they choose them carefully (they know they could be choosing their fate).
poets know that the absence of words is just as important as the presence.
poets are born, not crafted.
maybe i am a poet.

thousands of lost souls screaming at the dark
that lives inside their minds
and wishing someone could draw them out
of their lonely heads and this broken time

even the simplest action becomes an ordeal
a herculean task to those who are
living perpetually in fear of all
the things they see and everything they are

if you have never lost your senses
to sheer paralysis over food, or going out
you cannot understand how terrifying
life can be, or how it drags so many down

we live in the depths, an exclusive hades
this circle of hell exists on earth
heaven and stars become a rich pipedream
we lose all idea of love and elusive self worth

an illness so isolated, this disease
god I wish something was wrong with my body
that could show what makes me so insane
instead of a perfectionist need to be lovely

an innate detachment from others
the people who know how to exist
in happiness, who dream of real things
who when they die will truly be missed

I am not here, not real, I wish I was
not a shadow girl, the ghost at the bar
lost in a lonely heart and finding salvation
wielding a blade and creating ugly scars

making pain replace love and true feeling
so that everything translates to fat
and I can't possibly enjoy anything
and open up, I'll never be like that

withdrawal and dissolution reigns until
this girl gets help, gets locked up
gets shown all the ways in which she is sick
god, I wish I had never grown up

*© Tara India.

She'***** the bottom far to long,
waiting,
          breathing.
for someone to come along.
hating,
              creating .
for something to happen,
with all in bad luck she points and blames.
chaos,
         shame.
Selling your sins into heaven for fame!
scoundrel,
            thief.
From Hades you came,
***** your finger from which came blood of grain,
truly beautiful for the great insane.
comfortable,
             numb.
Tedious credulous liar,
shake down this cross and bear to save it,
as for my people their hearts you enslave it!
evil,
          lucrative.
Down at the bottom she picks and gnaws,
tiny ***** fingers at the thick hard walls,
up the well as her faint raspy voice calls,
"****** for you and ****** for all."
revenge,
              bitter.

I want someone to fall in love with me tonight.
I am talking love at first sight.
I want someone to look at me and think, "This might be the one...
And, Hell! she seems fun."
Although I might look kinda dumb, I promise I'll try
And I want them to notice the color of my eyes
And the bird on my foot and the rose on my shoulder
And the lump in my throat that's the size of a boulder
And I want them to smile when they see what's happening
And I've been waiting a while while my love life's been napping
But I'm ready to wake up and take up a man
Who's ready to be with a girl who can't tan
But I'll freckle and burn
And I'm always concerned
With whose turn it is to be the big spoon...
And please speak up soon.
Cause, though I do well alone,
I kind of need someone to call home
And to laugh at my jokes
And not be hurt when I choke
When you tell me you love me
Because I still can't believe that you're so far above me!
Like the king of the world
With the invisible girl.
So thanks in advance for making me seen
And proving that I mean something to someone...
That I mean anything.

And won't it be funny when people ask how we met?
And you'll recall how you set
In a shop drinking tea
And then you saw little old me;
The Queen of Naive,
Issuing a plea
And wishing for love and hoping for luck
As I loosed Cupid's arrow and prayed that it stuck!
And they'll ask how you knew
That for me it was true...
And you'll look in my eyes,
Still drenched with surprise
And drunken with hope that you'd recognize
That it was no accident that we met that night.
Because I made you believe in love at first sight.

My fingertips were paper cuts,
when I told you I didn't love you;
you snatched your hand away.

My voice cracked like broken glass,
when I told you I was sorry;
you turned your head away.

The windshield of your car was cracked,
and inside we were shattered.
You said I'd never see you cry;
you lied.

My hands were shaking cold
when you took off the watch i gave you.
You said you didn't want it,
and then I checked the time.

It was 9:53 on a Tuesday.
It was supposed to snow,
but it didn't.

I couldn't change the atmosphere,
or lighten your heavy heart,
despite how much I wished I could.

You turned the engine off,
and I knew that it was over.
My heart was in my stomach,
and it was all my fault.

I took off the necklace,
you gave me for my birthday.
You didn't want it back;
I left it in the cupholder.

I didn't want to leave you,
but I knew I had to.
My words were sharp like razors,
and I couldn't take them back.

I'm sorry.
For tearing at your heart.
I hurt myself too,
I don't deserve your love.

You shook your head in silence,
before you left your car.
I wished I could curl up,
in the passenger seat and wait.

Wait until the morning,
when you drank your coffee,
and pressed your shirt,
and went to your car to leave for work.

I was tired, and you tapped the window.
I wasn't surprised but I hoped it wouldn't happen.

I took my things and left your car,
the warm passenger seat.
It wasn't mine anymore,
it never really was.

I said goodbye;
you pretended not to hear.
You waved, even though
I wanted a hug.

We said goodbye,
and I knew it was over.
I said goodbye to your arms,
your voice over the phone.
I lost your favorite movies,
and the way you did your hair.

The color of your eyes would
become just a memory,
and the curves of your lips,
would fade just like my perfume.

If I said I wouldn't miss you,
that would be a lie.
I missed you almost instantly,
as soon as I said goodbye.

I swallowed my pride,
and pushed aside my regret.
I needed to walk myself home.

I looked back to your house,
but you weren't on the porch.
I remembered sitting there,
just talking on the steps.
It'd be passed 1am,
but we wouldn't notice that.

You'd say goodbye,
then let me leave,
but you'd always call my name.

I know it'll never be the same.

Every step I took,
I felt you fade away.
I couldn't do anything,
to make you stay.
It was all my fault.

I'm sorry.
I didn't want to say goodbye.