Ahana   (Ahana)
3.9k Followers · 94 Following

Joined 9 October 2017


Joined 9 October 2017
28 NOV 2018 AT 13:48

We are
two poems
chasing quietly
each other's stories,

our words unspoken
as rhythm
sinks herein,

but dreams
mellow, unmindful

like the stray leaves
of the fall.

-


17 SEP 2021 AT 11:21

there is a sense of languidness hanging in the air from all the words we haven't spoken but which are better left unheard. soon your parched voice breaks out the stillness of the room, you ask me if I can do what it takes. I mumble a yes, with dread. I look back at the grave of promises made and broken. I clasp them too tight and fasten my heart around to run away from it (or you?). How long I have been running? Where I am running to? call me cruel or cowardly, we know I would stay here, better with the situation not confronted. the grief has been shoved away on a wheel for a year, it hurries away only to come back stronger. and the promises you make stick around my teeth like warm glue, the heat almost tangible from the fear I have brewed inside for a while. With all the fear I have now, can I do what it takes?

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3 MAY 2021 AT 17:41

The world around me is too aggressive and spins a little too quickly to laugh in the face of absurdity of me forgetting you. I have captured you as a tapered thought and a habit I have grown out of. You are nothing but the sudden jolts of memory keeping me awake, a flash of your gaping smile, the depression between your nose and mouth, that hushed joy in your voice. And the quietness of these flashes keeps growing fonder and fonder, until it decides to break down in a thousand broken pieces and I am left alone to draw them back. I play around with these thoughts a little while longer, betting on them to arrive the next day, their form so brittle to the bones but reluctant to go away. Much like us. Much like Kafka and Milena. Much like any other person in the world whose heart has been stooped by the weight of love.

(Rest in Caption)

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28 NOV 2020 AT 16:39

Promise me when you come back
your sight won't make my gut uneasy
I won't count down the minutes
to wait for the paralyzing grip of anxiety leave
There is a spewy feeling melting inside my mouth
Your questions makes me sick,
Seconds wither away
Before I can give you a word or two
lips pursed, nose twitched, throat dry
Life seems like a perfect daymare

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14 OCT 2020 AT 20:04

Letter to a friend before pre-freakout stage.

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18 SEP 2020 AT 19:52

....

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18 SEP 2020 AT 17:39

.....

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18 SEP 2020 AT 14:03

No One:

Literally No One:

Maggi in my lunchbox:












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18 SEP 2020 AT 13:46

Everytime I spot my teacher outside school:

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17 SEP 2020 AT 11:43

I hope this one finds two of us in true despair. This is something I have always wanted to write, but never did, probably out of moral goodness. It's rare to find people who earnestly believe murdering someone through words is not a crime, so yes, keep your judgements ready.

I am afraid how to start this. Nothing sounds appropriate, because there is no stable spot for us anymore. You are like a fish wading inside my throat. I am so grossed by the idea of having a funny fish taste inside my mouth, but squeezing in a nasty experience often turns out to be a good hook? Writing about unpleasant memories when the night is barely left, hitting the snooze button, heading back to get some sleep. It's always the same routine with you, see?

Every night you will put yourself around some women and manage to stick with them for a few more dates, if I am lucky, the matter won't grow tense for us. And if I am not, you'll flip over on my tongue, the aftertaste sour and sordid. So the next time you crawl back to me, I won't melt my barriers again.
Because for some of us, love is a secondhand emotion.

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