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as i take you to the woods
trust me
as i walk with your hand in mine
follow
as i guide you through the dark
relax
as i hold you close to my heart
and remember
always remember
that i love you
sometimes my poetry isn't even good. others won't like it, or appreciate it, but that's not my point. i don't need to impress, I just need to get thoughts out or I might explode.
Unbearable.
Unreal.
Unrelenting.
So cold, it burns.
A kind word, a wistful glance, a warm caress-
Too much to ask.

Strangled.
Starving.
Stillness.
I started a fire, is that enough?
It's hidden inside, and I'm burning up.

Take a look within-
Frozen, dark, and black.
Open wide, let me in,
I'll never let you down again.
There's words on the tip of my tongue
I'm trying to spit them out
The taste of stale chewing gum
Wandering about.

Flossing through my teeth
The whisper of frustration
The loudest of heartbeats
A head ache from nauseation.

What was I saying?
I'm now in a band with my best friend called "The Jews of the Round Table" in which we write songs to the tunes of other songs about the Middle Ages. Yup.
It comes naturally to me.
My passion, my pleasure.
It always has.
I can make up stories in seconds;
I can make you awe in minutes;
I can entertain you for hours.
Stories about princesses and princes,
Young people falling in and out of love,
Magic or no magic.
Past, present, future.
Writing has always come naturally to me.
Not all that glitters is gold
And not all gold glitters
For you must find the glitter
The shine
Or the spark
Deep inside
Something that might not appear so

Gold glitters when you find its glitter
Some roads
are made to get lost in
this was one
it invited us
to wander blankly
without an agenda, without a destination
just following its undulating shady guidance
to nowhere in particular
to just walk on endlessly
sometimes noiselessly
sometimes talking nineteen to the dozen
but always moving
deeper and deeper
further along its contours

it haunts my dreams yet
it surfaces as a desire from the depths of my unconscious

this road,
and
that walk
when we got lost

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   18.01.2013
    Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
If you'd like to, you can see the photo of the road at : http://vijyalakshmiharish.tumblr.com/
Dead, twisted pine bough
Gray against the dark green sea
Two crows huddle there
From the cold wind, beak to beak
A red cheeked child stares, watching
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