"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

because i always notice
the little changes in
my twos and capital As,
the slant replacing a
deceptive curve in the
final letter of my name,
the necessary angles
and perpendicular
attitude of my things,
seeking control in
unconventional
places, because i
can't seem to get
a firm handle on
anything else.
incomplete people
with little habits
of a partner
to smooth out
their edges and
fill in their flaws
are luckier than
those who have
to do it themselves.

Asphalt hot will scald the toe
The smallest step will stub it,
Succulent pots will catch the eye—
Surely to leave you rubbing.

And Fear, the wretched, ***** cat,
A mane sheer black with pause
Shimmies down the fire escape
Like good old Sandy Claws.

Blind as night these twenty years
With memory for an action.
Fear, that ***** is blind as me,
But she seems to find her satisfaction.

The difference between stepping
Stones and stumbling is the lesson;
You turned the light on, a quarter to three,
And from my blindness, drew a crescent.

Asphalt hot could scald the toe
Could melt holes in shoes, you know.
But nothing ever burns quite like
Denying your weary feet that road.

And Fear, the wretched, hoarding cat,
A mane sheer black and sane:
You ought to thank her for the ride
Once you’ve felt, at last, the pouring rain.

Seven on my neck, six on my chest, five on my hands, one on a thigh, and one on each knee.

Scar one; Our voices were cut mid-sentence when you swerved onto our side of the road.
Scar two; For the first time, Time was in slow-motion. You made it possible to count the silent seconds.
Scar three; Seven seconds in, my mum cried a religious code, "Oh my God!"
Scar four; You made me believe that's the last thing I'd hear before I'd leave.
Scar five; ... Will we survive?
Scar six; My heart kicks in gear, blood flows to areas that suspect a mother's worst fear.
Scar seven; We're far from Heaven.

Scar eight; August 29, 2007. You made me remember this date.
Scar nine; The words I manage from my ****** throat that night, "Is everyone alright?"
Scar ten; You showed me magic tricks were real. The bowl in my hands vanished with the help of the air bag, sending pieces to the back for another life to steal.
Scar eleven; Can you possibly imagine feeling, but not seeing your cold, stinging, cut throat singing? Singing red, just pouring your heart into it?
Scar twelve; You set two fires to feed. One in my heart and one on my knees.
Scar thirteen; My brother hadn't seen anything but smoke when he woke from his dreams.

Scar fourteen; I know you're a father, have you met mine? No, you were gone before you could tell him his family wasn't fine, and that you may have had a little too much wine.
Scar fifteen; Like a mother duck rushing her ducklings across the road, you put mine in full-mother-mode.
Scar sixteen; When the paramedics came, they mistaken the taco salad for my brain.
Scar seventeen; The way you leaned on our totalled car, smoking a cigarette, not a scratch on you, not a sign of regret.
Scar eighteen; After the hospital, you made it almost impossible for Nan to get me into her car.

Scar nineteen; My friends waited 'till late, crying, thinking I was dead, and my mother and brother, dead. Have you ever had someone mess with your head?

Scar twenty; July 23, 2012. I got my driver licence. And by now, they've probably given your's back to you. This isn't your first time, this isn't my first rhyme.
Scar twenty-one; Driving at night, every night, I still see your headlights right in front of me. My body is still braced so don't you think you left no trace.

Scars. I had more but they've healed. I have 21 scars that you meant because at that number, that's no 'accident'.

Let's talk  about your dreams
Let's quilt a blanket for me.
So lovely to lay down inside
So warm to be wrapped up.

The colors your made up of
Shine on everything I see,
The difference between
What has happened
And what will be.

Grow me in your garden,
I'd love to sip your sunshine
To bloom and breathe.

Coming to pass
Is love, At last-
The footsteps of the future fast.

Drip your risk free
Down on me,
Cause I am always thirsty.

Have been digging day and night
To find your golden heart.
The splendor of it lit fires,
That never glowed before.

I can feel your features from far away,
And I can see it when you speak.
Always welcome beside me,
Within without around me.

Scraps of poetry are all it takes -
whoever says words are “sweet nothings”
is so sorely mistaken
and has never known that intellectual ******
that comes from reading emotions
in perfect juxtaposition

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   09.12.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

I want to be loved
even when I
talk too loud
or curse in public.
I want to
have someone
to come home to
who will touch my cheek
and tell me
"I've missed you."
And I think love is
knowing how damaged
someone is
but sticking around
to make sure they're fixed,
and I need someone to
stick around for me.