of seeing you behind my tears

you stood glossed in front of me.

like an antique.

like porcelain.

and everything else just stopped.

like portrait.

frozen-still.

like almost dead.

 

you stood blurred in front of me.

like a shadow.

like a demon.

and the rest just faded away.

like a small feather.

like almost gone.

 

 

– previously posted here – 

Estranged

in a mall with

 

a mobile phone that is not mine,

its phonebook full with useless numbers,

 

            Moron!           

 

an iPod,

running out of power,

 

Well, let’s just read then.

 

a book,

one that i’ve finished,

 

Oh, why don’t you just polish your writing instead?

 

a laptop,

dead,

 

“Mbak, di sini ada colokan nggak?”

“Maaf, Mbak, nggak ada.”

 

and, worst of all,

a notepad without a pen or pencil.

 

So I braved the cold

At a corner table in a quiet café

With a hot cup of latte

Exploiting whatever the iPod could still play,

Air with “Lost Message”,

Rereading Marquez’s story of sailors who ‘would be dead at the bottom of the sea’,

And writing this down with a pen borrowed from the cashier,

Encased behind glass windows and a display full of pastries and desserts,

Telling a bule, “Silahkan duduk dulu di dalam, Pak.”

 

On top of the display, an artificial Christmas tree modestly stood,

Its lights dimming and brightening slowly,

As though it was too lazy

To pull off yet another

Merry

Lie

 

Looking past it,

From this glacial seating,

I saw girls with bangs and ponytails in skinny jeans and geometric-patterned frocks,

one after another after another.

 

Every one of them seemed to blink along with the lights,

Like splinters of rainbow on a waterfall.

 

And I,

I called the only number I could remember

You picked up and said it was raining where you were

 

I know 

– previously posted here – 

say

leaves are rustling with your hair when you look through the window, vines curl up your back telling you stories of dissipating days and dreams,

you wait for him to say
to say

you wait

for things
not to happen

for a kiss that leads to no more
for hands to let go
for words to not be said
for teardrops to fall from the brink of her nose
for the night to end
for boredom and sleep
for every failure to rest and sink in

and never be forgotten

you wait for them to stay
to stay.

 

 

– previously posted here

untitled

what did we leave behind but silence

 

tracks
of happiness
fluttering

why were the books lying face down why were cigarette dusts piling up between the flower pots why were the bus seats so warm why
nobody will ever
wonder

breathe into my mouth i’ll break 
                     into millions of whispers

and we’ll be gone before the first teardrop hits the ground

 

 

– previously posted here –