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Angie S Apr 25
i don't talk to people.
sometimes i smile,
and i know how to say hello,
but i don't talk to people.

i can read, though.
it was foreign to me
until middle school age,
but the runes on the pages of
the holy book, the look of
my mother's first language,
became words that i could
slowly untangle. and
i was proud of myself,

but that doesn't matter when
i don't talk to people.
my grandmother tiptoes in
conversation with me; her eyes
know no frustration but she
cannot expect a full reply.
my cousin laughs with my mother
and i can't help but wonder
if she wishes i’d laugh, too.
and i worry that the words
will refuse my american accent.
i worry i do not
eat enough spiced curry,
pray enough to the right gods,
or even act
indian enough.

i don't talk to people.
i’m not sure how.
hi! it's been a while.
i've been in a poetic rut for a few months, but i came up with this. :)
Angie S Nov 2018
i remember your laugh
blooming like spring roses
at the end of summer
i could imagine the way your
lips parted, cheeks blushed
over the phone so clearly

i fell in love that day,
so much so that
even if i were to someday forget all about you
those roses would still smell so sweet
i promise i'm over you,
this is just the shy hopeless romantic in me
holding onto those little moments.
Angie S Nov 2018
i'm afraid that
i'll have all the words
to a love poem in my head
but no one to give them to
i'm rereading my journal right now. i wrote this line on march 27, 2018 after having watched love, simon.

a hopeless romantic poet's biggest fear.
Angie S Nov 2018
she basks in the sun's warmth
her half brilliantly glows
she dances on starlight
soft quiet steps on each star
as she twirls, twisting
the cosmos around her.
and yet her other half
hides away, unseen
her secrets embedded in her
forever companion, the
shroud of darkness that is the sky.
how mysterious and how beautiful
she is tonight.
inspired in part by Debussy's classic, Clair de Lune, and in part by the beauty that is the half moon.
i've come to appreciate seeing the moon cycles go by. i was born on the day of a full moon. i try not to be superstitious but i can't help but feel like she's always watching over me.
Angie S Nov 2018
in the dead of night
cruising past the streetlights
in a college student's car,
who am i?
i'm not american in these streets;
i'm not indian in this skin;
i am just another shadowed face
behind the windshield.
another pair of headlights reflecting off the asphalt.
another fleeting thought,
if even that.
i took a late night drive to melt my troubles away,
and almost melted away myself...

it's been a rough start mental health wise but otherwise... happy nanowrimo to all participating. and if you aren't participating, well, happy another-day-of-life? ahaha
Angie S Oct 2018
regrettably,
i layed in bed
before i got myself dinner.
when i had gotten up again,
only a single cold plate remained
on that table for two.
my only company were
the memories that dined with me.
they laughed with me as i ate,
chased me back to my blankets,
wrapped their arms around me,
and slept with me.
and i couldn't breathe.

no matter how much i tell myself
you're gone,
i see you in everything
i posted the first three lines of this poem on my social media and a friend told me it sounded like a poem. so naturally, i had to make it a poem.

nanowrimo is almost here and i'm going to be writing daily poems again (i believe this is my third year of doing so?). i'll be posting through the month of november! :)
Angie S Sep 2018
i wrote your name in pencil
i would erase it before you passed me by
but, watching your back distance from me,
i rewrote those letters like i
could not wear down that pencil enough

and i wrote your name in pen
that day you saw it, it was embedded in ink
no eraser could hide those feelings
but truly no pen could encompass the answer
written in your twinkling eyes

then i tried to draw your name.
but what color could possibly rival
the love your heart contains? and
how do i put on this paper what
the sound of your laugh does to me?
every time i wrote every way i love you
i just wrote your name again and again

even now
it's all i can do anymore
it's all i can do anymore

inspired in part from Ayano from the Kagerou Project,
and in part just from me.
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