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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.
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.
Lauren M Dec 2018
Vital parts, missing.
This has to mean something.
Held together by a face,
saving face, but still coughing.
“How bad is it?” A head, shaking,
nothing we can do.
I suppose this is what you wanted.

White teeth flecked red, peppermint breath.
Slow down.
Slow down that heartbeat.
Why you?
Why does it have to be you?
Bet you’re loving this.
The sky, slashes of sunlight over the hills, shades of blue and green.
It has to mean something.

Just listen. If this is the end...
Fear messages, helplessly echoing words
that have always been said by the dying.
Eyes that suddenly reveal the mortal behind them.
And promises
from the one who, shocked, finds an unexpected answer,
both kind and true, ready at the lips.
I never doubted your courage.
Pink spittle, the derisive reply.
Familiar tone, familiar grounds.

Go away. Go.
The dark, the dulling.
Night draws itself upon us both,
the cold, the quiet.
The steady vigil of the stars,
the baring of the grim moon
and the endless darkness in between —
it has to mean something!
Feliz G Apr 2017
Can't everything just go back to where they belong?
Back to where nothing was ever wrong.
I've cared for too long,
now I can no longer hear your song.
I'm pretty sure that I'm the only one who hasn't moved on yet.
Mio Seanachaidh Feb 2017
I know it's a mask
I know it's a game

You're a liar
We are all liars

You pretend in front of the world
I know the real you

We're bitter rivals even until the end
We laugh and smile at the world masquerading our feud as trivial matter
However, behind closed doors it's an all out war!

The two halves of you are deliberately parted
If the world knew who you truly are and what you do
All memory of you would be instantly shamed and your good name would be tarnished - forever ruined

I know you; a girl with a humble start
You came from nothing
​You've clawed, lied, cheated, and schemed
You've broken hearts and did damage

It's ok; we've all done it at some point in our lives
We are all despicable and wretched souls

You are Joan
I'm Bette

Our feud is so bitter, toxic, and complicated that its intangible yet pure palpable

I don't know how it all will end, all I know is this:

Golden rule of life: never underestimate your rivals.
It was the most notorious cat fight in Hollywood history. In the blue corner, the formidable Bette Davis, and in the red, equally feisty Joan Crawford. Both magnificent actresses on top of their game, both festering with barely concealed hatred for one another. But what could have caused this? Was it mere professional jealousy or something deeper?

A little investigation shows that these two cinematic giants were reduced to duking it out over, what else, a man. Namely, the slightly less legendary, Franchot Tone.

Their claws continued to be out for one another for the remainder of their days, until Joan was the first to pass away from a heart attack. The tragedy did nothing to diminish Davis’ acid tongue; “You should never say bad things about the dead, only good…Joan Crawford is dead. Good.”

Hard to believe their mutual loathing could endure for so long, whether it was love rivalry, or mutual insecurity in such a precarious profession?

The only two who know the answer are Joan Crawford and Bette Davis!
Dreamer Apr 2016
A beautiful soul is my enemy, a fake smile is what I see... worsening everyday, everyway. Her eyes are always honest... always sad.
"Trust me! Everything'll be fine " I can't say this to her.
Because we're enemies.
Phil Lindsey Dec 2015
With Lackey and Heyward both turning blue
The Chicago Cubs scored a mighty big coup
Kind of a payback for Brock, comma Lou?
What, oh what are the Cardinals to do?

We’re pretty sad, say the fans dressed in red,
That both of those guys chose Chicago instead
But a person would have to be daft in the head
To give up the St. Louis Cardinals for dead.

Yes, the Cubbies think that they have enough
But the whole NL Central is pretty **** tough,
Which team do you think will have the right stuff?
To win in September, when winning gets rough?

2016 will be pretty fun.
There’s quite a Division race to be run
When game 162 is finished and done
We will see which team, the most games, has won.

Yes, next year the race will be closely contended
During the season you might have me un-friended
But in winter time, our rivalry suspended
We can cheer for the Bears till their season is ended.
Phil Lindsey 12/12/15
Hope there are some baseball fans out there in HP land.  Especially Cardinals or Cubs.  Otherwise this won't mean much...........   :-)
EtherealOmega Nov 2015
A trickster’s grin
And a flash of smoke.
A quiet snicker
Meant to at your feelings poke.

This broker knows just how you’ll act
That is just a honest fact.
He watches you from behind cold glass,
And you won’t notice him when you pass.

His only rival has hair of gold
And is a fiery flame to the broker’s cold.
No one knows their true relation
But it could lead to his damnation
Should he give in a bit too much to temptation.

For now he’ll wait
And the lives of others begin to taint.
He loves humanity after all
And wants to see all the ways that they could fall.
This is what happens when I start re-watching Durarara for the **** of it.
Welp.. Here ya go!
Now you have to understand
that the greatest gift a child can receive is a sibling.
Wrapped up in that hospital delivery is limitless potential.
They can be your partner in crime,
or the key witness in your conviction.
A sibling fights the same battles you do just with different tactics.
Some prefer to pit mom against dad others dad against mom.

No one will ever walk the earth as close to you.
Part of the DNA that makes you unique flows in their veins.
Even if circumstances change that bond can’t be broken.
They will annoy you, steal from you, drive you crazy,
and if you’re lucky enough hate you. And yet they are your best friend,
confidant, and the person who if you’re unfortunate enough will go to ****
and back as fast for you as you would do for them.

So to all the siblings out there.
May you be playmates in adversity and friendly rivals in joy
Happy Siblings Day

— The End —