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 Aug 2023 MS Anjaan
nivek
'wearing the latest disguise in the face of gradual decay'
We were childhood friends,
The only difference in us was
He had girlfriends,
I had brains.
2/8/2023
 Aug 2023 MS Anjaan
Malia
i sit next to you
and we are silent and
i am scared but
you are more scared than
i am and when i
look at your eyes i
see a burning man
being stabbed from the
inside out and
i do not know what to say
because some things are
just not built for poems and
this is one of them.
man, copying and pasting all 649 of my poems into google drive is actually kind of tedious
 Aug 2023 MS Anjaan
Malia
I crave affirmation
I live off of praise
Why do I need this?
Is it my fate?
“You just want attention!”
That’s what I’ve been told again and again…

Maybe they’re right.
Maybe they’re not.
Maybe I just can’t be alone with my thoughts.
Looking through my old poems, found one I thought had potential but sounded bad!
 Aug 2023 MS Anjaan
Malia
I spill over my skin
So messy, so messy
I am a puddle
You are a stone.

As you 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉
Into me,
It ripples my entire
𝒇𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝖔𝖋 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘
All while you can’t
𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰
New stuff from old poems!
 Aug 2023 MS Anjaan
Malia
I don’t believe in the 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺
Of love, of teenage love.

But you do.

When I’m around you,
When I’m 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 to you,
All the doubts disappear.

But when it’s just me
I worry, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚
That I’ll 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 you,
I’ll 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 you,
Because you thought
That we were made of steel.

You don’t 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 that our chances are 𝘭𝘰𝘸
Of being high-school sweethearts
That make it to the other side.

You don’t 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 that when I think of our 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦,
We part ways and come back again.
You don’t 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 that I think steel melts
And then can be reforged.

I don’t 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 if I want you to.

I feel so 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘷𝘦 sometimes,
But I swear you’re even more 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘷𝘦
Than me.

I want to protect you.

But I don’t believe in the 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺
Of love, of teenage love.

I don’t believe in 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.

But I believe in 𝒖𝒔.
Hmm anxiety sure makes for good poetry
 Aug 2023 MS Anjaan
Malia
It is quiet
It is 𝘲 𝘶 𝘪 𝘦 𝘵 and I cannot fight it
I stare the sandy void
In its 𝘦 𝘺 𝘦 𝘴 and I
And I
And I 𝘴 𝘤 𝘳 𝘦 𝘢 𝘮
At the endless dunes
The grit in my face and my teeth and my hair and I
And I
And I wait for a boon but it’s not coming soon
Who knew that the moon looks like a cartoon
When you 𝘨 𝘢 𝘻 𝘦 at it too long
I could write a song
About it but I’ve ran out of music
Choose it, I would have to choose it
But I can’t make decisions when I have this incision
Visions, they cut with surgical precision
The wind 𝘩 𝘰 𝘸 𝘭 𝘴 at me so I 𝘩 𝘰 𝘸 𝘭 back
And I’ve lost track
Of where I am
Of who I am
But I still
I still
I still must 𝘴 𝘵 𝘢 𝘳 𝘦 the void in its eyes…

Oh, but it’s just another desert night.
My gf said her favorite kinds of poems are long, rhyme-ey, and use onomatopoeia! Ask, and you shalt receive…
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