it was late one winter night
when I first realized
I was fighting a war I would never win
a fight that was fought within my own skin
skin that I realized
I would never feel comfortable in
now
I look at freckles like name tags
scars like reminders
and bruises as memories
that I wish I did not remember
I've since become accustomed to
long sleeves and blue jeans
and people asking things
like "how did you get that one?"
"oh, the door," I would quietly say,
never to tell that the door
had a name.

My heart
Pounds faster and faster,
My mind is convinced,
That my body's disaster,
But you told me it's not,
That you think it is hot,
And you would love,
To have me in your bed.

My body
Shakes harder and harder,
Your hands they wander,
As they gently discover,
Every inch of the surface,
As if it has but one purpose,
And that is to be yours,
But only when wanted.

My gasps
Come quicker and quicker,
And your tongue is slick,
In its oh-so frenzied lick,
As if my body was sweet,
Sweet as the richest candy,
****** till sweet no more.

My illness is in my eyes:
Do not judge me by my size
Or the normality of my thighs

My demons live in my heart,
And show themselves in part
In my all-consuming scars

But just because I seem fine
Don't presume I'm happy inside,
Or that I'm really alive;

The darkness lives within
My pale and common skin,
Driving me to destructive things

My faltering smile should be
Some clue to what haunts me;
Do not believe that I am free.

You'll see me eat and laugh,
But positivity will never last;
My sadness is not in the past

Eating disorders are not skin deep,
For when I'm tired I cannot sleep
I have many secrets to keep.

*© Tara India

How you crave love,
That you would do,
Or say, or give away,
Everything,
And anything.

How you crave beauty,
That you would cut,
Or slice, or carve away,
Everything,
And anything.

How you crave perfection,
That you would mold,
Or change, or melt away,
Everything,
And anything.

How you crave skin,
That you would strip,
Or lose, or trade away,
Everything,
And anything.

My artist friend
Grisham John
(you'll hear more of him
and see his works soon enough)
has been working on nudes
(I mean artistically,  of course);
and with his co-operative models
he's produced a series of fine nudes
(please, keep a literal mind as you read me)

just the other day
Grisham John decided to have a break
so he told the day's model to dress
and would she make some tea and just talk
he needed to just relax
and they sat in the studio just chatting
but suddenly he heard his wife return
from the shops
and he speed-muttered to his model:
"Quick! Undress before my wife sees us!"

*You know,  artists do see things differently

It's funny, 
How a girl who has talents to stand out, is unnoticed. All the time. 

She sits down silently,
Counting the hours 'till it ends,
While everyone looks past her,
As if she was a ghost.

'Am I invisible?' She asks herself.

She counts,
Everyone acknowledging smile,
Hoping they finally see her,
But is yet to be disappointed, again.

People wave at her,
When she's alone.
But that's all the attention she gets,
That's all she has.

She silently cries,
She knows it's pathetic,
But she only wants to be known,
To be a somebody

Dreams of being famous,
Standing onstage.
But sadly realizing,
It's just a fake.

The one person she loves,
Is wrapped in his own world.
A world where she's the background,
A world where she doesn't exist.

So, it's fair,
These tears streaming down her face,
She wants to stand out,
Be different.

She tries so hard,
With her polite smiles,
Her funny tone,
But it's not good enough.

So, she writes it down,
To the world.
Where people don't see her face
But her words, for once.

She can show her true colors,
Through things she loves,
Which is poetry,
Posted to the universe.

She prays,
That there is someone reading,
Someone who sees through her words,
Gets the clue,
Helps her.

All she has to do, 
Is wait.
But that's what she has been doing,
For her past life.

These tears are for something more,
Something that matters to us all,
But we find it so easy,
That we forget that there are people,
Who can't.

So, I write it down,
To the world.
Where people can't see my face,
But my words, for once.

I write, because I want you to know,
This world will never be perfect.
*Never

I'm used to my life
Fighting to keep friendships alive
Why can't i just be normal
Ana is my only friend
Who keeps me in line
A person in my head
Is my only friend
Totally lost my mind
To what i seek
I want to have friends
That stay
Like everyone else
Why is it so hard?
I don't understand

This is me
As raw as i can be
Feeling like a zombie day after day
Not eating
Waiting for the number to change
Stuck in my false reality
That i will ever be pretty

Alone in this world
Nowhere to go
Nothing to see
I often wonder
Why do people need me?
Alone in this world
A lost little girl
Trying to come back
But she seems
Oh, so very far away
Like chains in the bottom
Of the ocean
Help me get her back