Hey girl
      *I caught you staring in the mirror again

       The same look of dissatisfaction painted clearly on your face
You look at your stomach and touch your waist
            Turn and look at your back with the same expression
       There may be wear and tear here and there, especially on your spirit, but that's not where you stare
          If you did you might see the most beautiful sight ever beheld by those big brown eyes
   
       See,
    A lot of men would see your thighs and to no surprise, try to get inside
      But I see your mind and what lies behind the obvious
           A question mark most would leave off the end of their sentence
            I could never forget it.
   I see the rocky road you've walked every time that we talk
        The gravel was never gentle on your soul
      But you continued until you came upon a house built from pain
  decided to stay and thought you'd be okay
      It slowly became a home where you grew into the furniture
    Your veins interlaced with fabric and every fabrication only wove you deeper
          And soon the drugs came to take you away only to fade and leave you to a fate stuck between these walls of abuse
     
                    I refuse
To let you go back
And even if you hate me now, I hope one day you'll understand and love me for that
                   See, I see a lot of things because I look past the mirror you fixate on
                    I've never had to see you as just a reflection
           But rather as perfection, because with every wrong direction you took to get to me it made the time we have together that much more meaningful
           And though your spirit may be bruised and tired, it refuses to give up,
It's gorgeous.
         


        
You've never had to see me as a reflection either. Every time you look at me, I'm anew. I'm not what's in a dusty mirror, and I'm not what's in a fading photograph. I'm a steady flame in your heart, and the most beautifully flawed smile I've ever seen. I could never thank you for all those small things you do without noticing. Nothing I write could touch upon the tip of the gratitude I hold in my heart for you. So I guess to come as close as I can in three simple words,

**I love you.

I like poetry and cigarettes
I like to pretend there's nothing left
Of a heart, of my beating brain
I like to pretend I'm still the same
Girl you fell for who likes the light
I like to pretend that I'm alright

I like sunrises and late sunsets
I like to place my calculated bets
On the possibility of numbers, pounds
I like that I feel time running out
That my hours are counted and dry
I like to pretend I don't ache or cry

Or shriek, a banshee to the moon
I like to say I'll get there soon
I like to think I'm like Liz Taylor
In diamonds, not a rotting failure
I like to say I still dream of peace
That I'm not insane or craving release

I like lists, planning, and cold style
Brandy and whisky and travelled miles
I like pages filled with art
I like to think I'm still in her heart
I call myself a golden-age fighter
I like to pretend it's getting brighter
I'll say I love these things till I die
Because I've no clue who I am inside.

*© Tara India

have you picked your poison?
look at us
look at all of us
pathetic
bags under our eyes,
lifeless and gaunt,
maxing out at three hours of sleep per night
what keeps you awake?
demons?
yes
skeletons?
yes
depression? war? weather? abuse? addiction? epidemics? heartache? heartbreak? stress? worry? scars? acceptance? lack of money? ******? despair? pending approval? family? illness? the future? disaster? pain? friends? tragedy? guilt? hatred? work? secrets? anger? anxiety? sadness? curiosity?

somewhere along the way
we forgot how to be happy
I mean, /h a p p y/
we forgot that we are only going to inhabit this place
one time, for any given (or taken) amount of minutes
and to remedy this
we pick a poison
so, tell me
what's yours?

I do not love you for your smile,
So welcoming, warm and mischievous,
Or even for your special glance, so demure, meant only for me.

My love is not a reflection of some ensorcellment found in the depths of your jewelled eyes.

I do not love you for your charm,
Your wit and lust for life,
Or for the way you embrace new friends, companions and experiences.

My heart is not a slave to your every touch, bound by a witch's brew of lust, tenderness and desire.

I do not love you for your beauty,
Enchanting as you are,
Not your flawless style and grace or the way you walk a room, every eye captivated by the boundless joy that emanates from within your breast.

I just love you,
Simple as that yet all encompassing.

You could die for it--
love,
or refuse it altogether
and know nothing
except the urgency
of youth. Men

have been
solitary
for ages
carrying the
stoniest of hearts
in their broad chests
while we women

begin too early
brush the brown leaves
from our shoulders, go
from bloom to fade
as soon as
we see the sunrise

We let our eyes go first
Then there is the limp lolling
of our hearts from side to side
the tongue we cut away
the blind kiss on the backlash of night
the giving giving giving of skin

As women
we blindly wish
past the ****** of passion
as we vanish into a world of men
whose ribcages we were scraped from
Perhaps we are born of seeds
our essence crawling up the stem
to feed the bees.

Perhaps
every flower you see
is a woman
and when
she's in bloom
and when she is blooming
red
and when her leaves are wingbeats
of green in the autumn wind
beating wings of green, yes
even as the wind tries to humiliate her
it fails because
she's in love
and only she would die for it