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1.0k · Jul 2014
The Unexpected
Angelina Desh Jul 2014
The thunder woke me the same way you broke my heart.
I sat up in bed, sweating, panic settling in
The same way it welcomed me graciously when I realized
I'd have to endure every single day
without less than a single spoken word

You won't even look at me.

I used to fight
for you, against you
against the constant urges to look you directly in your gold threaded eyes
and wonder why?

There was a day
where I fought for your heart
and won.

Nothing is the same.
Now it's all detachment and denial
from you, my thoughts, my anger
from the amber glow that follows me radiating red
a somewhat burning hell.

Every morning I see you go to your locker
That's when I can still hear the thunder.
This is probably my most angry poem. I've dealt with awful anger issues and writing them down really helps me. I'm sorry that this one is such a downer.
934 · Jul 2017
I used to hate flowers.
Angelina Desh Jul 2017
I keep your secrets close to my heart
Like the necklaces we wear with memories tucked deeper inside than we've ever shared
Like a flower blossomed from us, held tightly to my chest
Genuine seeds of thought sprout as our petals are doused in golden dreams
While lust stained tips and thorns sharpen alongside the crescent moon
I pick that flower every morning and think of you.
This doesn't seem happy....but it is. It's about how beautiful it is when two people share secrets, or even random thoughts, with each other. Those two people have grown a beautiful, secret garden between them.
682 · Jul 2014
Post Scriptum
Angelina Desh Jul 2014
How could your sweatpants retain your scent even though I washed them
Eight times.
P.S. I feel like I've lost you when I take them off.

I still feel your curls between my fingertips from that time I put you to sleep.
P.S. I knew you loved it but I acted surprised when you told me you did.

I told you I was sweating because I forgot to turn my AC on but it was because I felt the spaces between your fingers fill mine.
P.S. I was freezing.

Thank you for letting me rest my head on your shoulder all of those times I was exhausted.
P.S. I was always wide awake.

Thank you for lending me your t-shirt for gym class.
P.S. I had two extras in my locker.

You told me I looked beautiful when I came to school with no make-up on.
P.S. I haven't worn any since.

We fell asleep with our hands miles apart until I felt yours tapping mine
calling
"Hey, come back home."
P.S. Please let me come back home.
559 · Dec 2017
one in a million.
Angelina Desh Dec 2017
he walked on a tightrope with your glass heart
lost the plot in the story your eyes told
and when his balance followed, your world became one million tiny shards of fear

I spent the rest of my life picking up the pieces
And only got to 999,999.
This is about losing someone to commitment issues. It's a particularly conflicting heartbreak that consists of so much love, yet so much contrast and confusion. You may or may not be the love of my life, but regardless, these words are for you.
461 · Jan 2018
fan the flames
Angelina Desh Jan 2018
have you ever wondered
if it was possible
to set fire on fire?

well, if you're thinking it's impossible
cheat on someone with anxiety
and stand back from the flames.
thanks for that, btw
447 · Jul 2014
Cribs
Angelina Desh Jul 2014
I cradled your heart in my hands
like a mother to her newborn.

You always said you hated doctors but
you sure knew how to make my bones feel brittle
and my heart stop dead in its tracks.

I listened to your rants just like I listened
to that CD I made you
Over and over again
Making sure everything was perfect
And it wasn't and I wasn't and I'm still not and I still thought you'd say thank you.
Then again, I also thought you'd stay.

I used to love your sweaty palms but now I'm poisoned.
They say that you grow new layers of skin in certain intervals of time
but you've seeped through my pores.
No matter how many times I come alive again
you'll always be running through my bloodstream.

You cut me with the edges of the stars I caught for you
and I bled until there was nothing left
for myself anymore.

You run laps through my daydreams and my night terrors
snatching each sliver of emotion I could possibly be feeling
Shoving it deep down into your pockets
where you know I'll never be able to reach
You don't allow me that close.

I've tried to read my palm lines but I can't
I only see your name engraved in the hand you once held tight
with intent to keep in there
just for the night.

We stayed in bed listening to our songs
but we couldn't hear over each other's heartbeats
and the sound of me praying that you would be there
when I woke up.

I should've prayed louder.
420 · Dec 2017
Alive
Angelina Desh Dec 2017
It shines, slithers, and glitters,
   the color, vibrance, and shimmer
   blind with the lights.
I can't look but my eyes crave its eyes.
I can't touch but my hands need something to hold.
I can't taste but I miss the taste of the blood of her heart.
I can't hear but her voice screams and repeats: "Why don't you love me?"

"Why don't you love me?"

I can't smell but the instance of your essence triggers the memory
of my drug-addicted love.
I can't do many things but when I'm near you, I can breathe again.
I can feel the warmth melting my frozen heart.
I can feel the breeze under my wings as I jump to my death
because loving you
is
my
death.

And I never want to feel alive again.
381 · Jul 2014
Stitches to a Closed Wound
Angelina Desh Jul 2014
I don't want someone pretty.

I want someone who makes me realize that constellations
are just hammocks catching the fallen dreamers.

I want someone whose voice resonates
like a strummed guitar when she laughs.

I want someone who hands will find their way to mine
in the middle of the night when the darkness clouds
our judgement.

I want someone who lives life without reading the directions first.

I want someone who reads the fragmented sentences
and grammatically incorrect phrases
pieced together and labeled "thoughts".

I want someone who appreciates my useless talent
of stitching up loosely strung together metaphors.

I want someone who can answer this question:

"How did you ever let her leave?"
356 · Dec 2017
makeup
Angelina Desh Dec 2017
Lipstick red like poison
Stinging as you marked your territory on my neck
And as my knees became weak, my heart a bit too heavy
You picked up the broken pieces, knowing they were yours to collect

Our hands danced under city lights
And frequently met in secret under restaurant tables
But when our fingers pried apart, the city finally fell asleep
And ever so slightly, your mascara ran down your cheek

The light peeked through the windows
And the sun reminded us we’d lost track of time
Between the sheets, we wrote a sermon preaching that there was still love to be made
And by 5AM, we knew we’d need the concealer to hide the blackened secrets under our eyes

-makeup can’t hide all of our secrets
a writing prompt given to me by the woman: "hard but fun" - write about makeup
351 · Jul 2014
A Heart That's Not Mine
Angelina Desh Jul 2014
I've spent too much time loving a heart that's not mine.
Always making sure it's light rather than continually putting up a fight
How tiresome it's become knowing that I'll always have to battle
against the eyes that tear me from ear to ear
cheek to cheek
yet failing to construct a smile
I'd break my own heart to stand in the shadow of your happiness.
I've spent too much time loving a heart that's not mine.
290 · Jul 2014
4 years
Angelina Desh Jul 2014
Why did we have to meet
Just as you moved me in the basement
While you were still
my foundation.
270 · Nov 2017
writer's block
Angelina Desh Nov 2017
whenever i have writers block
i pray to god you haven’t stolen my words
because they’re the only thing i have left
to remind me
that you’re no good for me anymore

— The End —