I'm firing my immune system
It fails at its job
Turns up late
Then has the audacity to be a slob

Last week a virus attacked
And my achy bones
Let me know that
Its defences were slack

Couldn't dodge the cold
Or dribble around the infection
It jumped right into the cough
And stood by as it got invaded

I was going to take it on holiday
But the parasites await
So I'm on the lookout
For a new immune system

At least a boost
Or maybe an upgrade
To protect and prevent
I need a new guard

Whilst I'm at it
I'll look for a new heart
This one causes havoc
And mocks my brain

Does as it pleases
Brings pain
As it pines
For what it can't gain

Maybe they just need to be trained

Body vs mind
we are trapped in time
between us
entwined and confined
because we are dreamers.

He called me 'little swallow'  
Dark kisses like planting seeds, dotting the bumps on my spine.
Breathe sweet with curry promises heat pools on the skin of my neck.
My ******* he holds in the dim light as if they were the most precious fragile china.
Urgency and endlessness twirl as drunken dancers in my stomach.
Infinite and the finite.
Little swallow, he begs. Little swallow.
Traces of invisible letters drawn on his dark skin with such a soft rake of my nails.
He arches his back in a bridge from delight to despair as he digest the pain of lust.
I could trace the map of India on his neck, the constellations on his back.
"Little swallow," a whisper that comes out as a groan.  
"You are flight of swallows, living cloud.
That I could hold you still
a thought in my head
"restless girl with her heart beating fast."
Now he roughly pulls my hair back
and my neck whips with it.
He has my arm in a lock beneath my chest, kissing the side of my neck.
'my little swallow' he entreats in a dry cough of sound
and i trace Calcutta with my feathery tongue.

She is my morning
when the night
is over.

When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                           ­                               And ask each drop
                                                            ­                                   why it'd leave
                                                           ­                               such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                            ­          So you can see her every morning
                                                         ­                          and wish for her
                                                                ­                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                       ­                                 has only made her
                                                                ­                   that much more unique;
                                                         ­                              that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                            ­                     one day after you're gone
                                                            ­                      she can find the strength
                                                                ­                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                            ­                   who thinks herself damaged
                                                         ­                         when in truth she's just
                                                            ­                    a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                           ­                         That deserves to be loved.

Many words do
not make the write.
The journey of the
words are what makes
the story come alive in
the mind..

I browse the poems on Hello Poetry
and chance upon yours,
It shakes me to my core,
Like it was written by me, for me.

My thoughts you spread out on display,
My miseries, you named them.
How did you know?
How could you have known?
The blood shed was wiped clean,
The bruises, camouflaged accordingly.

But here, staring at me,
were details of my life,
Penned by a seemingly unknowing entity.

Inclined to turn away,
I quickly close the page,
Goodbye Poet,
Goodbye Poetry!