I wasn't good for you because

I loved you unhinged

and that scared you

You felt like you didnt deserve to be loved

To be consoled

To be held like that

You are just like me .

At first I thought selfish things

What do I owe you ?

What do we owe eachother?

We owe eachother nothing !

And I thought you were different

Your'e not different at all

You are just like all the other people I let in

Who searched and upon discovery of flaw

a very tender to touch

sore  red spot

instead of aiding it with ointment

you take your fingers or your words and

you rub deeply  

drawing blood

not caring about the pain it caused me

Her eyes were big & round  
the light within them shone like yellow sunflowers

Her body framed with skin soft as clay

of an array of colors  

Fair like the sands of Punjab

Burning red as baked earth with brown undertones

Sienna , caramel , dark chocolate

Short & scrawny arms encircled  by gold, blue, silver bangles

  based upon her class in the caste system

  A portrait of peacock linen

   Hair flowing as night blackest sky roped licorice



Born in a world ruled by ironfist

An unoticed lily growing beneath the swampy waters of traditional thoughts

Takes a innocent breath from swirling field winds

Rushed to the other side of eternity without giving a chance to deliver the gift God put inside her.



Mother & daughter were thrown in the yard

for everyone to see

as if they were no better than trash

Splashed with gasoline & set on fire

For being a girl .



Priyanka:

I wonder where you are

I wonder are you safe

My first baby I carried in my heart

I pray that you are loved

I pray that you are safe

I pray that you overcome the dark shadows of India .

In a house within a home

lies a room anchored by frankincense borders

adorned with multicolored tiles

Only one wide oatmeal beige chair

in the corner yet

the center of the world

The house within a home is loud with laughter and simple

peeking excitement in small places

The door to the room wooden with a crystal doorknob

The feet of people travel all over the home they are welcomed

But down a set of stairs made of white concrete blocks

a plain simple chair remains outside of the room

tempting passers to wonder what's behind the door with

the crystal ****



  Every evening into the night

I sit in the room with a composition book & a pen

I write

I breathe

I sing and hum

drawing the attention of an audience of one



One who puts his face against the door

making sounds like a whining puppy

while tapping lightly against the woodenframe

with his brown fingers

I put down my pen

tip-toe to the door

one hand on the **** gently

I place my face against the door

as if he could feel my kiss through it

I say " how can I help you ""

" who are you looking for"

" Do you miss something ? "

I wait in silence to hear what quirky words he will make up .....



He says : there better not be not be a man in there "

I reply ; wait let me put on my clothes and open the window

imagining his ****** expression deepens my smile

he says : Can I have a kiss ?

I say : Did you eat the food I left on the table its full of kisses

He says: No my fingers felt lonely on the fork without you

there stealing my food.

I say : Oh....

He says : Open the door

I say : You clean your feet

He says: Yessss

I say : liar what's that funny odor your toes ....

Truly I can smell the scent of his cologne and the sweet almond oil

I rubbed through his hair just before dawn

The memory pushes me to open the door

I paused and said ( knowing him like clockwork)

" Ok if I open the door do you promise not to pester me

He says " you have my word

Knowing better yet in anticipation of feeling his arms

I open the door and like always

he tackles me

like dino does fred on the flintstones

I enjoy it

It never gets old .