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I misread the map and forget to say But you brushed it with “it’s okay, I prefer we took the long way” You smiled and let the music play How can you avoiding the right turn Makes my stomach burn Maybe it’s because the wheel speed doesn’t really match my heartbeat The one goes slow, the other one is overflow All we do is screaming out To the old song you like Our voice is tone deaf and sounds horrible At the moment I realized that my feeling is in trouble I cursed at the crowded street That you seemed to enjoy every bit It’s the way that you never think twice To not let me be alone under the night lights Maybe it gives me shiver More than the way you open the door Or bringing close my dinner Now you ended up being more than a blur

Some questions feel like it judges you  Even the ones that don't have the right answer;  The ones that don't ask you to describe,  The ones that is so simple it even gives you choice  And yet it never make you safe enough about your voice  Some of it stripes you down to the core  Words and words, one after another  As if it rarely leaves you without asking more  Sometimes it feels like it's way too easy  But how exactly many times considered as sometimes  Is it once, twice, or is even my count the same amount as the other?  Answer with sometimes, and you can masked it with indefinite to feel safer  But after all, question is needed  To get to know, to dig deeper, to find what you're looking for  It might bare your soul, it might made you feel smaller;  The question is merely looking for answer,  But you are always be the only one who have the power Here's one reminder for you The never rarely, sometimes alwa...

She knew way too well About love, boys, and friends What she doesn't know was  That she can found it all in one form Slipped into someone least expected  When the time is far from right  And yet, she tried  He understands feelings  Towards things he cherish  A well spent time full of comfortable silence,  easy laughs, undisguised intention  And yet, he found something way bigger  Not until the end of something big when both of them realized that the only love & feeling they chase after has come in the form of each other  And then they fell, into a deserted well  Where everything they found made perfect sense  With a tall cup of iced coffee,  She uncovered her wounds, he bare himself to the bones  On a thousand arguments,  They walked hand in hand  He fell for the kindness, she melted because of the effort  Through a clear glass in sight, they can see that  Love is not only pretty  It also ...

Payahnya aku dalam menerka baris kata  Dan menyingkap tanda di balik tiap senyum manusia  Akan jadi akar dari tumbuhan kesendirian  yang entah mengapa repot-repot aku terus siram Mungkin saat itu kamu tepat berada di depan pintu  Melantun sendu yang kusambut dengan ragu  Berteman panasnya hari  dan bisikan jeda yang tak pernah tiba  Berdiri kita dalam guliran detik  hingga mati di kaki tak terusik Ada sesuatu yang tersingkap rasa  Namun terselabut dengan takut  Pergi aku berlindung dalam aman  Hanya untuk menemukanmu kini terduduk di dekat taman  Membias kecilnya tawa yang diikuti senyuman  Peluk untuk biruku; hangat untuk dinginnya kalbu Malam itu aku terbiasa kembali pulang ke luar  Menghabiskan sisa bulan bersama hadirmu yang kian menyaru  Kita merayakan kecukupan tanpa apa-apa  Dan menertawakan serpihan rasa yang kadang menyapa Sampai suatu waktu kulangkahkan kaki ingin menjumpa  Dan tidak kutemuka...

Yeah, I'm gonna bail out on writing this piece in bahasa, because to be honest, it feels harder to strip myself down using the language which hits way too close to home. I'm just gonna let the title be, though. As a talentless kid, I always wonder why don't I have any special skill like the other kids my age. I picked up my small orji and started to scramble my thoughts out on how talentless I am; how my mom never register me to any courses about arts, or anything other than school. I couldn't simply talk about these things to my friends because I might be outspoken about what's in my mind, but never what's in my heart. Writing it out instead made me feel safe — until I found out that my mother secretly read my diary but never acknowledge it anyway. Back to the topic, my writing started out about not having any talent at all and sometimes I'd write about my days, my feelings, and my dreams — yes, I have a thing with dreams since I was a little girl. Someho...

I might be the most stubborn hot-headed person you will ever met, I might have the most annoying laugh you will ever heard, I might never stopped talking until your ears blown off. Believe it or not, there is another person who is as stubborn as me with the similar taste of jokes and complex thoughts. But she is way smarter with words, that I always feel like my writing will never be good enough compared to hers. She complained about how rarely I show my affection towards our friendship through my writing or my random post on instagram. To say that I don't have enough good pictures with her is just a mere excuse because I can simply write my feelings out like I did for my other close friends. But when it comes to her, I never feel like my written word is ever enough. She is a much brilliant writer than I ever be, and most of the time I feel like my words didn't do justice to describe it; to describe how she can be infuriating with her anger & big fire towards injustice of t...

I long to belong somewhere Across this universe Where we could fit in together And then I decided to build one in my mind Some place covered with white walls and high windows; So that the warmth of sun could come And the breezy wind keep on knockin’ Not so big but enough to put in a large tv & long couch For us to sit in while watching; Gasping at serial killer documentaries, Crying at romantic movies, Staying up all night to binge the whole season of series A home full of your voice singing “And yes, I’m a mess but I’m blessed to be stuck with you,” While I laugh doing random dance at the stairs Our morning will be full of my rising anxiety Starting with my last night’s dream story and your hot cup of worry You’ll blow it out with your raspy voice And hug it tight to shut the noise We both know that we don’t need much from a companion Other than a person to share random jokes, stories, and nights full of endless conversation with In a crowded city we will be enough; Me with my pe...

Most of the time I feel so alone until every ghost in this universe could possibly choose not to haunt my gloomy heart simply because it’s way too deserted. Other times I tried to look around and found no one. I was left by myself to answer all of the questions and to figure out how my life should exactly be. Until I glance a stare to a far distance only to find an abundance of Libra waving their hands at me, cheering and welcoming their own favorite one, tis the season to be jolly. Since this writing is not about me. This one is about Hana, someone who is extraordinarily smart, but stupid enough to let me ruin her last year of high school by agreeing to sit with me. And there she is, tangled in my messed up story through the remaining years until right this second. A quite unique Libra, I could say. People could see her but not quite see who she is; brain beauty with a tad of stupidity who I believe will never need any luck in her way. Just because she made it a certain way, and she ...

Things I am not willing to share: 1. The lychee on my iced tea 2. Pia legong 3. The last bar of chocolate 4. My fucked-up history on the family area 5. The scar that’s way too revealing yet i’ve always succeed on hiding 6. The comfort of my own cold & quiet room whenever I need my space 7. My best friend’s confidential stories 8. Names of my crushes (like, never) 9. Hundreds of unfinished letters of anger I wrote to avoid snapping at people when I’m upset 10. The old site of my blog Actually, there are like hundreds of things I am not willing to share to anyone, including you. I’m sorry this is not a love letter and you’re not the only exception. You are not even an exception at all. There isn’t any exception regarding my life and my constant need of dealing with it by my own. Your way of being right there in front of me with eyes full-focused listening to my rambling words about the movie I watched last night while drinking an iced lychee tea is what I want to write about. It is n...

Untuk setiap hela napas, terdapat harapan dan mimpi yang hampir kandas Diselipkan penuh hati-hati dalam satu dua tiga gulir detik yang berlomba dikejar oleh mati Entah tentang rencana panjang atau cara menghindari berjalan telanjang Akuilah, Tidak semua nyata adalah bahagia Semua yang diinginkan untuk menjadi, Pun akan mati di beberapa sisi Seperti seorang penulis yang punya mimpi untuk ciptakan sebuah citra yang memanja mata Namun apa daya, Jauh sebelum kuas menyelesaikan tugasnya, Ia sadar untuk mengingatkan sejuta manusia Akan kesia-siaan yang akan datang Dalam setiap hela napas, Penulis tahu tangannya bukan untuk menggores kuas; Bukan untuk mencampur warna; Bukan untuk mencipta citra, Di akhir cerita, ia akhirnya memanggil teman baiknya Untuk sekadar temani apa yang sudah terlanjur mati Sebelum menjadi Sederet kata yang tersusun di bawah gambar adalah bentuk pemanfaatan akan semua yang telah  hancur berantakan Mati ditelan harapan selama tujuh bulan

Aku mau mulai nulis suka-suka Gak melulu soal hati Apalagi cinta Enggak perlu mikir mau pake diksi apa Nulis satu kata juga suka-suka Enggak kek, gak kek, nggak pun ya gapapa Eh, atau nggak papa? Nulis gini bukan gue banget Pake gue pula ???? Namanya juga udah lama enggak Nggak nulis, maksudnya Kalo nggak yang lain mah udah lama banget Nggak ketemu orang, nggak pulang malem, Nggak ke luar rumah selain kerja Banyak yang protes perkara pesan tak terbalas Banyak yang ilang perkara udah gak dianggap teman Padahal kerjaan cuma gini-gini aja; Melek, minum air, basuh muka, pesen gojek, Absen di lantai 28, pesen americano otr pake saus dolce 2 pump, duduk, minta ditemenin orang, ngisi paru-paru, Balik ke lantai 39, buka laptop, niatin nanti sore pulang kerja mau nulis, eh tiba-tiba udah setengah 7, absen, pesen gojek, Nunggu lift, abang gojek udah sampe, lift belum kebuka, Diburu waktu, dikejar telfon abang gojek, dikelabui buyi ‘TRING’ kirain lift kebuka, berdecak kesal, gak sabaran, ada ...

I used to crawl into bed with the pain of your name Blood streaming down my eyes; praying for the time you came Screaming for air at the same time Not ready to hug you with another goodbye My whole life I only know you as one, And eighteen, twenty one, also thousands of none That afternoon I let the day passed by And yet, you go back to the place when we were still blind The tight hug is not helping at all Neither the easy tone wrapped in a loose t-shirt Your whole existence reminds me of hell I’ve been living in Since the last time you let us be gone And leave me here all alone Those days I wasn’t even sure I will survive because I used to run from everything by going to your reek-of-cigarettes words and cold as stone mouth. The sweet “ oh, darling, remember that you will always come home to me ,” used to make relieve streamed down all over my bones. That was enough, the hand to my limped foot; the band-aid to my burning world. My name rolled over the messages which I knew who it...

You gave me a ring of promises and I remember you wearing your bright yellow t-shirt  I laughed, I joked about it, you laughed But when I wake up I breathe into nothing other than the feeling of your ring on my finger and the reality that you are already long gone

I was ready to move out of the house you built for us to stay the moment I knew you will never come home anymore I sleep on the couch while watching TV without having to slide to the other side making a space for you to sit on I draw a nice bath with cold water I’d pleasurably enjoy without hearing your nagging voice from the other side of the door telling me to soak into hot water I lay awake at night snuggled into a thick blanket on rainy days without turning the heater on and there isn’t any warmth of your breath creeping on my skin trying to block away the cold I listen to my favorite whispery voice from slow mellow songs instead of having the argument over a blaring deafening one of yours I watch series that we both used to love one season in a night and when that one particular movie was on the TV I smiled remembering how hard you always cry while watching it And then I play it again for the hundred times trying to accustom myself not to deliberately searching for your ...

My old man didn’t bring me to life But he sure as hell is there every step of the way; Cradling the innocence within me, Dragging my bones, sometimes way too harshly And yet I don’t mind, I never do He walks as much as he talks wearing the grey too early for his folks Every time his mouth opens, he breathes out my lifeline And yet I don’t mind The ship bows when he whispers to the wind The time comes for the sun to dim, He lingers, not even once giving in Through whomever mouth the cruelty slipped out, He stands, not even once giving up I recall finding every bones in his body breaks apart; His voice raised, his blood dried up; Saltwater pooling in his clear stare, more than he can ever bear But never once I feel the grip of him loose from my ends I might not come from him, not entirely But I might as well be, I always wish I do For he is the only living breathing human being, whose quarter blood runs in my vein, never breaks my heart, or put my wrists in chain Every good pieces o...

Bisikkan malam menderu keras di telingaku beriringan dengan lantun tanpa syair dari sebuah racauan lagu anak kecil yang tidak sedikit pun merdu Gelap angin teriakkan dua senti helai rambut di besarnya kepala berbalut wajah familiar yang dihiasi dua bola mata hitam tajam berlapis geram Lalu seketika satu dua puluh juta kata bermanja tanpa membiarkan jeda tiba dan aku tersadar bahwa takutku akan sebuah tatapan intens pun luruh olehmu, sirna Dalam satu hembus napas aku biaskan indahmu ke masa kelam dan ku lempar hangatnya nyaman ke arah keramaian tak berarti yang mengelilingi Walau sekeras apa upayaku menata detak yang ku kira sudah retak sejak tahun lalu, tak jua hilang kemampuanku untuk selalu bisa bertemu dengan bagian dari hatimu yang kau tutupi kaca bening penuh dengan sirat abu-abu Walau sekeras apa upayamu untuk menjadi orang yang aku benci selama ini, tak jua mampu kau berbohong untuk mengakui keruntuhan tembok tinggi yang bersamanya seraup izin tanpa kata membiarkanku men...

My heart is fire and your hands are the lighter You can cast it aside or keeping me as a flicker The way you lit your cigs is classic And though I am a part of it, You still got sole power to control every bit It was not that thin like any other kind Coming right off the clean white pack, It was tiny and thick; compact With scant of paper left on the end side You’re letting my fire kiss it hastily Only to have more time For your lips to devour it leisurely, Slowly, gently, it burns and burns And it keeps on burning Seven minutes straight before you harshly put it out Much less time than what others prefer to drag But the smell, oh the smell is haunting To the very core, it is intoxicating Tingle in the throat; crisp to my nose And, oh, how every air that tastes like that Injects pieces of you into my blood at maximum dose All of it is white with a hint of aureate All of it is you; taking a poison like it was your last breathe Between you...

Dunia bersuara lewat setiap kisah manusia. Tentang yang hilang, bertahan, dan kembali pulang. Tentang perasaan, dialog kalbu, dan potongan rindu. Tentang satu, dua, tiga jiwa, dan selebihnya yang memberi makna.  Waktu adalah satuan hidup yang lucu. Tidak berupa, namun mampu mengiringi di setiap antara. Penggalan cerita, hembus napas manusia, serta serpihan perasaan. Penentu dari sekelebat, dua abad, maupun yang kini hilang tanpa kasat.  Kala itu aku kenal sederet nama yang goresan hidupnya bertabrakan dengan milikku yang cacat, terluka, dan tidak sempurna. Rinai air mata, renyah tawa, sejuta ribu emosi bergantian penuhi dada.  Kali ini tentang manusia-manusia hebat yang di dalam perjalanan meninggalkan kisah singkat. Tentang perih, hagia, tak terlupa sisa luka. Semua yang mampu dituliskan dengan kata, dimulai dengan tentangnya.  I.  Tentangnya yang dari pertama terasa seakan tidak terlalu berarti, sampai nyatanya menjadi pengisi hari. ...

Indah mu mampu memberi warna 365 hari ku yang lalu Tidak lagi kini, tidak tahu nanti Tak lagi berpendar bak percikan; Terasa sedatar hamparan padang gersang; datang kau sekelebat udara, sedingin minus derajat tiga Februari, kali ini peganglah aku seerat-eratnya

You and I are only good on my papers Written with the trace of tears; Every layers of words Crafted with metaphors Magnificently appeared as a poetry showing off what was ours You and I are only good on your pictures Aesthetically taken; Glimpse of comfortable silence Frozen in a split-second moment The smile in our eyes are blinding the things our lips can’t let out We are good together at hiding it Little did they know, I always write about pain and Your photographs are only left as a memory Of every former agony