I wish I didn't feel so empty without you

   I'm hollow
      All that's left is my core
         I'm just paper thin, tearing skin
   **All I've left is my black heart, melting away

My love, my love
A sunny day
My love, my love
Don't turn away
Open your heart, your mind to mine
I want it all, nothing to hide
My love, my love
Let me in
My love, my love
It is no sin
I want to know from the brightest of days to the darkest of night
The inside of your mind
My love, my love
A sunny day
My love, my love don't turn away

The color of your skin,
It sings perfection to Me.
The shades of color in you window eyes,
Allows Me to see only you.
The outside is just human,
It's the soul hidden,
That makes you far more different.
The soul that's hidden,
That's what beauty is.

Painted pictures come to life,
Twirling landscapes with subliminal words,
He gestures back and forth with life,
The white canvass transforms into a palette

You stood on the inside,
Wanting to go out,
You watched from the inside,
Wishing you were someone else

He’s driven around in a limousine,
With a stack of green bills to light his cigar,
He’s got it made and does not know you exist,
He dines with pomposity and drinks in gold

You stood on the outside,
Watching him dine and wine,
You watched from the outside,
Wishing you were sitting there.

She was a model, thin and tall,
Brawny and bright with a flair of the fair,
She smiled and danced, gyrating her hips
She partied until she could no more

You stood on the outside,
You wished you had her life,
You watched from the outside,
Wishing someone invited you
To life’s grand celebration

You did not know though,
The model died of drug abuse,
The tycoon was murdered,
And the artist…ahh the Artist!
That was you…that was you first and foremost
You forgot and you deviated!
You re-arranged your priorities

And now…and now
You stand on the outside,
You no longer can watch the world go by,
You no longer can wish,
You in a wooden coffin,
Being laid to rest.

You died yesterday,
Poisoned with affection
By someone who stood by
And watched you from the outside

Vijaya Balan (2009)

Spikes of pain are going up my arm
And my head is aching with some kind of alarm
They're all trying to tell me the one thing I know:
The inside and the outside of my body are COLD!~

There is a boy outside
Is he holding a knife
No. There is a boy outside
Or is he scared for his life
No. There is a boy outside
Does he smirk with delight
No. There is a boy outside
Or does he just want to fight
No child. There is a boy outside
Is he here to ****
No. The boy holds a flower
For whom's heart to fill
There is a boy outside

Longing for the dark,
Longing for the cold air on my skin,
Wishing for the night to engulf me,
Fill me with it's emptiness.
Not because I'm sad,
Not because I'm depressed,
Not because I want the end,
But to remind me that this is real.
I don't need what I have already,
I want some of what I'm missing now.
I want a reminder of who I used to be,
Of how much better I am now.

So night, show me the dark.
So I can appreciate the light.

13 years, so many jobs
so many names you half forgot
got caught and collected
                    at the corner of your mouth.

Outside, it's one more night,
one more stitch in this rag doll year
and you can still hear the way she'd
                    try to talk while laughing
any given Sunday night.

Might be you half forgot.
Might be the roaring years
drowned out the hum of their names
in your ears
              earned your stripes, now wear 'em well
spell out your name in snow, then
go lay down in the bed you made.

Outside, it's lights and noise
and visible breath
footbeats on sidewalks,
forgotten names with smokers' coughs
all caught in the roaring tides of
                                                the time.
But it's blood clots inside;
a parenthesized appositive
                      redefining what you lost.

In the clot, one sunk to the silt,
                  to the dregs.
In here, your living room
               is outside the parenthesis,
closed out of the open air.
Spare change beneath the lamp
strangely mocking outside lights,
                 glinting bright,
                    but silent.
                       Inert.

And, just outside,
          those city lights
they flash for others;
those with jobs and funds,
          with lovers,
with smiles still left
                         in the tank.
Not fake ones constructed
by nights getting ****** up
or upended frowns painting
clown faces all pasty--
                 you'll get out.

                You'll make it back;
              black clouds blow past
       and the tide runs out fast. And--
                           lastly?--
    You're made of better stuff than that.