He told me that he loved me,

he told me that very day.

He told me that he loved me,

before he walked away.

He held me closely,

closer than before.

He held me closely,

before he walked out the door.

He held my hand tightly,

tightly in his grasp.

He held my hand tightly,

before the words that made me gasp.

He told me good-bye,

that today was the end.

He told me good-bye,

and left me to pretend.

He left me sitting there,

slowly shaking my head.

He left me sitting there,

and I wrote a note that said.

He told me that he loved me,

he told me that very day.

He told me that he loved me,

before he walked away.

I have to live with myself, and so
I want to be fit for myself to know
I want to be able as days go by
Always to look myself straight in the eye;
I don't want to stand, with the setting sun,
And hate myself for things I have done.
I don't want to keep on a closet shelf
A lot of secrets about myself,
And fool myself, as I come and go,
Into thinking that nobody else will know
The kind of woman I really am;
I don't want to dress myself up in shame.
I want to go out with my head erect,
I want to deserve all woman's respect;
And here in the struggle for fame and wealth,
I want to be able to like myself.
I don't want to look at myself and know
That I am a bluffer, an empty show.
I can never hide myself from me:
I see what others may never see,
I know what others may never know;
I never can fool myself, and so,
Whatever happens, I want to be
Self-respecting and guilt-free.

She sits at the hospital piano each afternoon
with lotus blossoms and seashells
braided in her hair.

Her eyes close
and her fingers waltz
like silken rain on an ocean,

and she dreams
of music swirling like water,
music adorning her withered skin.
She whispers, thank you for holding me.

And she’s adrift in the waves,
sipping
thirsting
for poetic roars,
symphonies and duets
that cradle her ears.

The Piano speaks to her
when night spills into the vacant room,
like tears that fall from her dying irises,
home reflected in them.

they sit close, elbows
touching, the boy with
the guitar and coat
with holes at the elbows

a sign is propped against
the black velvety case:
"For new strings and food"

people scurry past, like
they're afraid beggars have
Medusa eyes to turn them to
stone if they look too long

I've been one of them far
too many times, my mother
pulling me away by the elbow

I've asked her and my
stepfather why they never spare anything,
for she donates to drives and he's
so "Christian" that he snaps when
I say the good Lord's name in vain

she says if her money is
going to anyone else it will be
her children or a nonprofit

he says they're most
likely to spend it on
drugs

but I am alone now, and
the consequence of lectures
no longer hangs over my head
or anchor my heart down to everyone
else's deep cold indifference

yeah, I'm sure they
could spend it on drugs

I'm also sure they could
spend it on exactly what the
sign says they will

they're gypsies, wanderers...

you see them everywhere,
eyes brighter than their drab clothes,
scarves wrapped tight, instruments
the only warmth that greets them on
any given night

so I try what so many have preached,
but only given to a select few:

faith

I bend, long enough to
give the acknowledgment that
they exist, that their invisibility comes only
from those that have trained themselves immune,
numb

bills fall, like green streamers
of hope, because I know
a mere clatter of coins is not
enough to feed

"thank you, sister," he calls
as I stand up, gaunt cheeks of
ginger stubble turned rounder by
a grin of gratitude

my responding nod is
a quiet none, of the wisdom
that sacrificed lattes are much less
worthwhile
than the imprinted memory of his
smile

I'm impressed by the creative writing I have received so far, but keep those entries coming. This week I am featuring an essay by Malvika. Hope you enjoy reading about her experiences with the pressures of school and trying to figure out what she wants to do with her life. Comment on her writing by clicking on the "Expresso" title above and scrolling down to the comments section.

"I'm Me" by Malvika

           I don't know what my 'calling' is, I can't stay serious for more than 5 minutes, I have no major goal in life and am not a great looker. Last week, my BASE classes started. BASE is a institution which runs a 2 year IIT Foundation course. IIT stands for the Indian Institute of Technology and it's reeaaaly hard to get in which means that you have to study for 4 years [8th ,9th ,10th and 11th grade] and revise for one year, before you can even pass the entrance test. And let me tell you, passing the entrance test isn't enough if you want to get into IIT .Only the best out of the best can get in and the entrance test is supposed to be the toughest test in the world [I'm not kidding !]. And you have to do well in Physics, Chemistry and Math even if you just want to join BASE. I don't even know why I joined BASE. Sure, I wanted to improve my math and science skills, but this was more than I had bargained for. Usually, when people ask me what my ambition is, I just say 'Ummmm I dunno' or I just say that I want to be a vet or a doctor when I grow up [depends on the person].

          Indians really like math and they are usually pretty good at it [Aryabhatta ,an Indian Mathematician and Astronomer, came to the conclusion that the earth revolves around the son one thousand years before Galileo and the Indo- Arabic number system is used all over the world] but I'm just not a math person. It's not like I don't like math, but I don't really have a 'mathematical brain'.

          But coming back to the point, all the BASE teachers asked the students what they wanted to do in life and all of them [okay, there were a few exceptions] said that they wanted to join IIT. The rest of them said that they wanted to be doctors or astronauts [4 out of 45 people], but nobody, and I repeat nobody, was clueless except for me. I'm not particularly bad at anything, but I'm not very good at anything either, so I don't really have a proper talent. I stutter and can't have a conversation with somebody without using the word 'like' or without saying 'ummm' and everybody says that I am confusing. The BASE people gave us a navigator, which is like a day planner, except you have to plan your hours of study [school work and IIT preparation]. The BASE students are completely different from regular High Schoolers. They do their homework, they actually study for 4 hours a day, they stay back after class to discuss their progress with the teacher and they read books to 'gain knowledge'. They seem like they're a different species altogether. I don't always do my homework, I don't study everyday and I read books because I like reading. I told my mum about these serious people and I expected her to be surprised, but she just said, 'Welcome to the real world '.

          I have a close friend named Sharadha who is one of the smartest and one of the most hardworking people I know who always wanted to be an astronaut before attending the Aero Show. Now she wants to be a pilot when she grows up. Basically, the BASE class has taught me that you shouldn't put pressure on yourself and that eventually you'll find something that you like.

          Yesterday, I realized that uncertainty is a part of growing up [What took me so long ?]. So what I'm trying to say is, don't be intimidated by the serious-looking people who have major goals in life; you might like pink now, but in ten year's time, you may hate it. Don't put pressure on yourself. You'll be alright.