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ananya-kalahasti
The summer before my freshman year, 2 things happened: I met the first guy I ever truly fell in love with, and I started writing poetry. Although not originally linked, the 2 have merged into a little black notebook full of hopelessly romantic poems.
my messages with you are turned onto mute. i keep your messages on mute and preview every single one before i actually open it. i always take 2-3 minutes to respond. i’m afraid if i type too fast, then my fingers will scream i love you, in the moments i mute myself on your call, its because i’m afraid i’ll suddenly blurt out “i want to marry you”, when there’s a silence when we sit on your couch and talk, and it’s never awkward, but sometimes there’s a pause and we just lock eyes, i’m afraid i’ll scream “i can envision my entire life when i’m with you.”
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Dec 20, 2023
Dec 20, 2023 at 1:40 AM UTC
met with silence
I feel paper thin and invisible in front of him. but that paper is made of 15,000 fibers, each of which are deserving of being heard and listened to, every story being another piece of fabric that’s critically important, that he so intricately seeks to pull apart.
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Jan 28, 2023
Jan 28, 2023 at 1:34 AM UTC
104
intrigue       w             r                   a             p       s me around your finger. keeps me hanging to every word,         name                 story                         place                                 that slips out of your mouth. trapped in - - hugs - - that i can only imagine but not feel. gazing and searching for           s t a r s in your eyes
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Nov 9, 2021
Nov 9, 2021 at 11:37 PM UTC
typical
i worry that you don't love you the way you make me love me that when you're alone you remind yourself of the people who aren't with you in person instead of remembering the people who love you from afar that when the sun goes down you're surrounded by monsters in your closet instead of stars in the sky that you've stopped trying to keep yourself warm and started letting people make you cold that you lie to yourself that you're fine even when i see you cry
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Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 9:59 PM UTC
lights out
You pick me up at 8. Nobody’s home, you’re dressed nicely after a long day, skin tight red dress. You bring me close to your face, put your lips to me, clasp mine in between yours, your tongue rolls around my delicate glassy edges, soft curves. bright red lipstick leaves a stain. you curl your fingers around me, we tilt back together. Tonight, you’re sad, lonely looking to unwind, let go, today’s been long, tiring, you need a distraction, your hand trembles as you hold me, but you won’t let go of me.
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Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 4:49 PM UTC
distraction
Growing up, I was never trained to love Wonder Woman, So when everyone threw her praise, I knew I had to connect with her on my own. I was never taught how to love her. In the late hours, I found comfort in an unmade bed, curled under her arm, over the curve in her chest, slowly moving in from her shoulders. She was raised hiding her heartstrings behind her ribs, carrying an iron fist, naturally trained to always protect emotion more than herself. Bending structures and norms in society. We always had the same gaps, yet somehow in other ways we fit perfectly together. Surrounded by others, we lived in a world on our own, arms tangled like earbuds strewn across messy notes of pristine ideas. Instead, we spent nights eating chocolate, playing cards, the background of cliché yet novel sitcoms drawing us closer together. Dissecting our hearts and minds in the early hours of the morning before putting them back together and going back to another day. See, we're never actually taught to love the people we seek to love more. Here, I failed to understand how to connect, how to fuse two hearts together, how to stop something right from going terribly wrong.
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Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 8:25 AM UTC
Wonder Woman
when you get stuck for the first time, they tell you to let go of whatever you’re holding on to, spread your arms out and pull yourself to safety. sometimes being backwards helps. from personal experience, i can attest to that. and if you slip, or miss a step, you might dangle, but you always have something attached to help you get back up. and you might be somewhere and find it a herculean task, while someone else finds it a breeze, you can choose how hard you make it, and you might feel locked in, but there’s always stability on the other side, and who doesn’t want a bit of a challenge there’s always someone to ask for help, because even the best of us struggle, and if you don’t enjoy it as much as everyone else, you’ll have another chance at your own choice too.
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
zipline
this silver bracelet adorns my wrist. pure, unyielding, unbreakable, inseparable. this bracelet is semi-opaque. transparent. this bracelet is only visible by you and me. personal. this bracelet was a gift for just another day. priceless, special, personal. this bracelet is laced with gold veins. intricate, unique. this bracelet cannot be removed. forever bound. this bracelet would never be removed. forever cherished.
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Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
7.15.16: Piece
Tonight we don’t cry, but we’ll laugh. Laugh when we should cry, for tonight is our last. Forget all the space between us, the awkward hand holding, the make believe, the pretend of maturity, tonight we don’t care about all the people watching us kiss, we’ve only been together for seven months, but tonight feels like our infinitiest anniversary, tonight we’ll be known to be together, never apart, two hands, gone from awkward brushes to full on clutches, immature winks to mature blushes, soft lip grazes to kisses causing full rushes, true love developed from innocent crushes.
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May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 8:57 PM UTC
5.26.16
When we first met, I didn’t think we’d be friends, but a year later, I couldn’t imagine us being apart. Sometimes I still wonder if you remember the day we went prom dress shopping together, in the crisp Florida heat, and the next night, telling me you’d gotten a new love interest, a 500 ml purple bottle of Robitussin cough syrup. I know I’ll still miss you when I take my prom pictures next week, right in the color you always said made my wavy black hair look best, or when I keep getting the Google notifications that you signed me up for, the ones about Olaf and the Frozen cast going to Broadway. Remember the nights we spent gossiping about the hotties of Pretty Little Liars? Or the late night sing-a-long pizza parties, long discussions surrounding your cute Colombian boy, how you always swore marry in rich to a successful business man. I don’t know what I was waiting for from you. After you half-consciously walked out of the room, opened the window to look back in, just to hurt me, to see the wall that had sprung up between us, the one you’d always blamed on me, but that we both remember you building yourself. But from what I’ll always remember, you were the slippery eel, the leech, in the strength and weakness of my life, who ****** on my happiness to fill your own open voids and problems, dragged me away from m life and my friends, to fill your place yourself, bulldoze me out of my own life, my own home and place. So, dear eel, continue on. Swim through and far away, from the lake, that still yet remains in my memory.
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Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
The Way We Left Things
When we first met, I didn’t think we’d be friends, but a year later, I couldn’t imagine us being apart. Sometimes I still wonder if you remember the day we went prom dress shopping together, in the crisp Florida heat, and the next night, telling me you’d gotten a new love interest, a 500 ml purple bottle of Robitussin cough syrup. I know I’ll still miss you when I take my prom pictures next week, right in the color you always said made my wavy black hair look best, or when I keep getting the Google notifications that you signed me up for, the ones about Olaf and the Frozen cast going to Broadway. Remember the nights we spent gossiping about the hotties of Pretty Little Liars? Or the late night sing-a-long pizza parties, long discussions surrounding your cute Colombian boy, how you always swore marry in rich to a successful business man. I don’t know what I was waiting for from you. After you half-consciously walked out of the room, opened the window to look back in, just to hurt me, to see the wall that had sprung up between us, the one you’d always blamed on me, but that we both remember you building yourself. But from what I’ll always remember, you were the slippery eel, the leech, in the strength and weakness of my life, who ****** on my happiness to fill your own open voids and problems, dragged me away from m life and my friends, to fill your place yourself, bulldoze me out of my own life, my own home and place. So, dear eel, continue on. Swim through and far away, from the lake, that still yet remains in my memory.
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