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Sister she called me. Sister I called her. To love and protect each other till death?  A friend she was, until she called me sister...and sisters we became.. surely it was right, surely it must be true....

Such joy

Slashed my heart she did... slit my throat? she might as well..
she told them...  
What? You ask the writer... it’s the secret unspoken..
The secret we must not speak of..
  Now...the Town’s ***** “I am”...
  She told my secret,but sister she called       me.
#poems #poetry . Follow me on Instagram @poetjay_
I met someone a long time ago
There was an elegant air around her
She looked around at
The filth surrounding us
Almost like she was a queen
Looking at a problem
She didn’t know how to fix

I knew immediately we had to speak

Suddenly, unpredictably,
She was living in my home
Sleeping in my bed
Sharing my secrets and
Divulging her own
Her things were all around me
In this tiny, little room
With one green wall
And all of her things
They covered my things
So I began to wish there was  
Distance between us

And then there was

My room felt empty
My bed felt cool
And something felt
Terribly wrong

We met again, unpredictably
In the same state
That wasn’t our own
I knew her instantly
She looked around
Like she was a queen
Looking at a problem
She didn’t want to fix
She seemed more jaded now
The way we’d both become
Traveling in the chasm
Of all that distance

We drank martinis
In the unfamiliar way we
Used to do
Jovially discussing how we’d both
Lost that hopeful glow
Her skin was still so
Soft, and young, and fresh
But she was heavy
Heavier than I’d ever seen her
Heavy in a way we can’t
Quantify with a scale
She watched me with
A careful affection
Proud but weary
And I doted on her
With the same admiration
She loved to overlook

We parted ways again

Now she’s angry
I dared to claim
She was worth more
Because of loyalty
She responds
To my overtures
Until we have the chance
To meet again
My heart begins to ache
As my fears
Become true
The one-sided affair
Takes its next victim

Transition 8 silent months

To glamorous shoots
You have to pay
To see
I think back to the
First time we ever met
And wonder how
Two people can look the same
But be so different
I see the queen forget
She wears her crown
And assert that she
Never claimed the throne
At all

I know who you are

I don’t know how this story ends
You are my happiness,
You always make me happy
You always put a smile on my face
You are my love

Truth is,
You are special to me

© Authentic Rose
© 2018 Authentic Rose (All rights reserved)
i hope you will appreciate it tinah
marianne Nov 23
My mothers tell me
not with pearls in pretty velvet boxes
or words in leather-bound books
but in buried memory and coiled threads
stitched together over generations—
who i am

head down pattern
repeated, deaf to its echo
ocean blue over prairie wheat over
thick mud brown turns murky
winding spinning battening
fabric woven—

a kind of fate

destined, we are women without men—
all to our children, knotted hands uncomplaining, holding
deepest love so deep it holds too tightly
standing boldly outside
the measure

obedient, we are women armed—
sharp eyed ironclad we stubbornly
manage life
mitigating disaster, securing the fray
keeping watch

doomed, we are women hard-boiled—
knowing loss, we look neither left nor right
reaching only to gods
and goddesses for friendship,

until one day empty
and by the grace of ***, I pause—
turn my eyes
and see my sisters too
Because we are made up of our ancestors. But can remake ourselves too.
David Abraham Nov 21
Mother will just sit back
and say that she doesn't care
because I'm not her problem
until I risk ruining her reputation
with my weight or with my acne
or when my grades slip,
because nothing is worse
than having her child be a failure.

She forced me to take all these honors classes,
and all these things that are too advanced for me
with unaddressed problems with focus and attention
and with an IQ that should be high enough to make me great,
but with a personality that holds me back.

I hear her talking about how I have nothing ahead of me,
and maybe she's right.
I give my right answers to others and spend my time making sure they succeed,
because I am useless with myself.
Maybe that's why I can't get recognition
or a congratulation.
2258 November 20 2018
Sara Kellie Oct 26
I'm here.
You lost your way kid
and I can't see you no more.
Did the lights go out?
Did the mist decend?
You lost your way kid
and I can't see you no more.

The light's back on
and the mist has gone
. . . and I'm here,
so I can see you once more.
I'm here kid.

Poetry by Kaydee.
Inspiration from 'Leave a Light On' by Tom Watson.
Diane K Oct 1
A father shapes and molds his daughter.
A husband ought polish his wife.
But, only when a woman realizes her worth and value
will she shine beautifully.
Hannah thomas Sep 25
"You have her smile"
"you look the same
but you're so different"

Hollow me out
Scoop me into
A shell of my sister

sliding into shoes
I am both too small
and too quiet to fill

Meek mouse playing house
In the home
Of a lion

Always a reflection
Never the real thing
Always just a copy

A two dimensional figure
Of a figure that I
Can never become

We are so different
Contrasting opposites

As in everything
That she ever was
Is unobtainable to me

Steadfast lighthouse
And I am the shadow
The sun casts behind it

So when I stare
Into that mirror
All I've ever seen

Was a reflection
Of a reflection

Looking back at me
i will never be her.
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