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Tanaya Jan 12
Will I ever prove that I exist? What do I exist as?

I may try and be a shadow to you
trying to protect you from the scorching heat,
but will I ever know that you're a night wanderer?

I may try to be the rainbow
for the silver lining in your storm,
but will I know that you constantly live in a drought?

I may even be a nightingale
filling your ears with music divine,
but when will you tell me that you are deaf?
Deaf to my yearnings and my cries,
and blind towards the tears
that wouldn't come out of my eyes.
Deaf to the rhythm my heart beats for you,
And yet I keep making the music.
I keep making the music.

I keep making the music,
perhaps to prove that I exist.
But what decides existence?
Do I exist?

I exist in nostalgia,
when people remember their first true loves.
I exist in memoirs,
of the greatest rivals they made.
I exist as the guidelines,
of the way they shouldn't live their lives.
I exist in their sensations,
illuminating how comforting a touch should be.

Yet I need to prove that I exist.
Why?
It's clear now.
I exist.
And you do too,
even if it is as a reader or critic of a this mere poem on this website.
I know you're there.
Tanaya Oct 2018
I open my eyes,
Flip the pages,
Stop by the one with the coffee stain,
There's a killing pain.
I close my eyes,
and read the verses of the poetry,
Word by word, Crystal clear
There's your memory
It's haunting me.
I open my eyes,
The page remains,
There lay the letters smudged
By not just the coffee stains,
But dried blood from my veins.
The Blood now wet with tears,
and the black of the kohl in my eyes...
  Aug 2018 Tanaya
R
deep
down under
There are things no one knows
nor understands
not quite yet.
They've drowned within you,
Because they were too heavy for you to take on
and one day they will resurface
but not quite yet.
THEN FIRE
crashing and burning
but we all know that water will extinguish the rising flames inside you
so you put it back in the bottle
for it to drown again
but not quite yet.
For sometimes these feelings are uncontrollable
and we have to embrace pain
suffering is inevitable

the drowning is what kills you.
Tanaya Aug 2018
I want to stay with the angels,
just a little bit longer.
Till I am one of them,
and they are one with me.
Till I teach them to write
their own destiny.
Till they hear me sing
the songs of the wild,
and twirl on the faraway tune,
write of the loss of a fire,
and fantasize of the sensuality
between my scars and the craters on the moon.

I want to nurture the angels,
to tantalize their demons,
spread their wings
and dance on the oceans,
to smile just right
and give the look half wrong,
I want to show them just for once
where they belong.

And once they start living their lives,
you shall see,
even the angels are but devils
like you and me.
Let me stay here,
and fuse into them my symphony.
Just a little bit longer,
It won't take time, I promise.
Give me a day,
I can make anybody get carried away,
I'm not proud of it.
  Aug 2018 Tanaya
Darby Hurr
There’s something wretched about the way you move
Maybe it’s the distorted curve of your spine
Or the ghastly shade of pale that we all share
Better yet, maybe it’s the way you thrive from burying all those with an ounce of light within them

That’s all wrong, though; what really bothers me
is that you remind me of myself
not too long ago- not long ago at all
You can’t be me. I can’t let that happen.
  Aug 2018 Tanaya
Shrivastva MK
चलो आज उन वीर शहीदों के नाम एक पयाम करते है,
जो हो गए कुर्बान हमारे लिए उन्हें दिल से सलाम करते है,
कैसे चुकाएंगे हम कर्ज़ उन वीर जवानों का ,
जो ख़ुद सीने पर गोलियां खाकर इस वतन का नाम करते है,

लफ्ज़ छोटे पड़ जाते उनकी बहादुरी के बखान के लिए,
न धर्म न जाति होती उनकी, जीते है सिर्फ वतन के मान के लिए,
जो कड़ी धूप हो या हो सियाचिन की कड़कड़ाती ठंडी
सीना तान रहते हमेशा तैयार सिर्फ हमारी जान के लिए,

हम कभी हिन्दू तो कभी मुसलमान  करते है,
जाति धर्म के नाम पर झगड़े सुबह-शाम  करते है,
चलो आज मिटा दो इस भेदभाव को ताउम्र के लिए,
पकड़ कर हाथ एक दूसरे का इस तिरंगे का नाम करते हैं....
Tanaya Aug 2018
Flames.
Flames result in something burning into ashes.
The stronger ones, that resist, are not saved from the effects either.
                                                                ­                             They blacken.

And when a fire and passion as strong as ours burns out, one of us is going to be reduced to ashes and the other one is going to carry the weight of the darkest heart around.

I strive to keep us ablaze because somewhere I know that the pain of being reduced to nothingness is much lesser than carrying around a broken piece of what once was.

                                                           ­                     Burnt from all sides.

And I know that I'm the one who's going to resist.
                                                         ­                                         Oh, I fear.
This particular musing is the closest to my heart,
Because it's four years since I wrote it first,
And now my hands are covered in soot.
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