Her hands are folded across the back of her neck
headphones cover her ears.
She sits at a table with three other girls
but they don't talk to her
and she shrinks lower in the chair
her already small form shrinking into a ball.

I should walk there
only fifteen feet away
and sit there next to her

you wrote me
within the lines on your palm
like a fragrance
held back too long
i hold this space
finding no cause for fear
in this unspoken emotion
that hangs between us
like a cozy muteness
our eyes
are two cliffs
pulled apart,
our stolen glances
daring to vault across
burn into my consciousness
the visions that you see
make me unburdened
of this cold i feel
and let me
join your flight
over the stars
or
repose with you
on the soft grass
read to me
and let me
sing you a lullaby

this is what life
should be all about.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
  04.06.2013
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

She's right there
fifteen feet from me,
my red, dilated eyes
and bleeding legs
screaming her name
or rather screaming the fact that I couldn't scream her name
couldn't whisper it,
couldn't even get close enough
that if I had whispered it, she would have heard me.
But she's right there
and she doesn't hear me anyway.
So why am I bleeding?
Why am I high?
Why am I broken?
She doesn't care

Two painters unseen,  leisurely take turns,
to change the color to one or the other,
relentless they strive, the world looks on,
but never could they succeed,
even after all these years of love's labor.

A third, the pale faced dreamy charmer,
is out of such intense competitiveness;
wanted the world only to be seen through her veil,
her goal is more artistic,casual.
An enchanting smile, none would forget,
flits across her face whenever she appears.
Her cool rays, and silver veil charms lovers' hearts.

It keeps her warm
her mind so weak
Not to know
not to seek

With every bite we eat
we starve one another
Then giving four mans share of food
as to save one brother

Corners cut and people swooned
jumping miles ahead
Who minds what the farmer does
as long as there is bread?

Thus I will hide my blade
and do this for my love
In my pocket and to the grave
No storm left while I dwell above.

It keeps her warm
her mind so weak
Not to know
not to seek.