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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
11.2.19
Ananya Kalahasti Feb 2018
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.
this poem is not about lust, it is about a wine glass.
Ananya Kalahasti Sep 2017
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.
Ananya Kalahasti Oct 2016
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.
i wrote this after a retreat, after i realized i kinda loved ropes courses?
Ananya Kalahasti Jul 2016
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.
last night hours apart <3
Ananya Kalahasti May 2016
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.
(this is not a breakup, the poem was a graduation gift)
Ananya Kalahasti Apr 2016
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.
we were told to write poems to people, and the only person left to write words to was you. it's been a year. i've moved on. i think.
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