I remember they once told me that
music is the best time capsule

It's where people keep their secrets and feelings;
of their insecurities, their mistakes, their sadness, their first cut,
and even the wounds and bruises that invisible to the eye

It's where people let their wildest dreams alive;
of the one they can never reach, the one that will never come back, the one that got away without proper farewell

It's where people store their most sacred memories;
of their first kisses, their first love, their first dance, their first bucket of roses, their first heartbreak

So they were right after all,

Music is dangerous, yet addicting; it can either tear you apart or put the pieces back altogether, it depends on what kind of ghosts living inside the interlude

Thus, be careful who you listen the music with
some melody is louder than the others

**

Today I played the music box you gave me on my seventeenth birthday
How odd it is to realize that music sometimes can be a time machine, how every strings and clinks bring me back to you—towards you

Maybe home,
is not a place
not even a person
but instead a feeling

It is a feeling where you can finally
adapt to your society and
be comfortable to walk in your skin
without being afraid or scared anymore

And now I'm homesick

She has lost count on how many nights she spent alone,
spoiling her thoughts while sipping her whiskey at the balcony
looking at the stars and the moon with intimate longing,
and wishing to be one of them as if she was one, once

They say that to live is the rarest thing in the world,
as for her, life is always a puzzle with one missing piece,
an endless labyrinth with no way out, let alone the dead end
an unsolved riddles with no absolute clues, let alone the answer

Sometimes at times like tonight, she'd let her mind wander
to streets she has never walked before and people she has never met,
with language she barely understands nor familiar with,
thinking maybe solitude is not a bliss after all—it's an agony

Intimacy is not measured

by how passionate you kiss her, or
by how loud you say you love her, or
by how your hands fit hers perfectly, or
by how many bouquets you bring for her

Intimacy is when
your souls intertwined one another
that even silence,
doesn't make her feel anxiety

Intimacy is when
your thoughts connect to each other
that even before you speak,
she already knows

And if you are lucky enough,
that connection will last a lifetime
that no measure of time or space
could come between two affiliated souls

Never thought I'd listen to Kodaline,
as I walk down the Memory Lane

Oh, Clementine
For when I was with you I've always been sane
You said you'd be at nine
But since you were no longer mine,
I spent all night with you in my mind
And glasses of champagne on my hand

Oh, Clementine
It's hard for me even to draw a line
Letting you go costs insanity I can't define
With countless loss of dopamine
But I guess if you're fine
I'd do my best not to intervene

Oh, Clementine
February 14th you're no longer my Valentine
Driving through the sreets I ran out of gasoline
But the time is due and I've come to the deadline
While sighing 'I'm done'
I know it's time for me to be gone

As for her,

She might has forgotten
where the home is in the world

For she's always everywhere—
in every countries she crossed
on every streets she wandered
at every motels she spent the night
above the sand and ocean breeze
below the tallest buildings and crowded bridges..

But you,

You make her feel like
the closest thing to feeling that again

Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whenever your heart feel at ease and be at peace
Home is whenever you go to places and in love with the streets
Home is whenever you listen to the music and jam to its rhythm

This two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place that shouldn't be burden off your shoulders
is a place that should you reminisce in joy instead of grief
is a place that should be a sanctuary rather than asylum

Darling, who ever told you that home is made out of bricks?
Home is whose eyes were jet black with a heartbeat
Home is whose smirks feel like summer in winter days
Home is whose touch melts away even the toughest iceberg

"Well", you said, "this two-story building made out of bricks,
is a place where I hear more yelling than laughter
is a place where my dreams died and buried deep
is a place where I used to shamelessly call as home

I couldn’t help myself but longing for your existence
It felt strange to have my body wrapped and my back rubbed by someone that is not you
It felt unfamiliar not to hear you talk about the weather and the sky after you question my day
It felt odd to feel the stain of coffee left on his lips—because it ain’t the one you used to sip

I couldn’t help myself but wonder about the probability of us
Tell me that being stucked in traffic jam doesn’t make you wish you were spending it with me
Tell me that your feet don’t dance to Ella Fitzgerald and suddenly missing the tip of my toes on top of them
Tell me that when you look at her face, you don’t search even an ounce of my warmth there

I couldn't help myself but pleading for your mercy
Forgive me that I almost forget the way your laughter sounds or the way you sigh when you feel hopeless;
or the transition in your voice when you get mad but choose not to show it
or how your fingers fit the spaces between mine perfectly—and God, do I miss them

Minutes and hours flew by
yet none of us hang up the phone

Conversations and silence filled in
but none of us decide to sleep

Some nights I can't recall
whether or not it's real

Sometimes I wish it didn't
—most of the time I wish it did

The best gift one could give to another is a clock
Simply because it is a constant reminder that;
nothing lasts forever; that our time is not limitless

The 'tick' and 'tock' that never stop warnes us in which
the time passes us by with or without announcement
For its nature is to remain constant and eternal

Maybe that's why us, humans, we tend to regret
the time we didn't cherish and spend well enough
—because our nature is never safe and sound

Her soul is tired now
and all she ever wanted to do was
calming her crowded mind
and resting her heavy heart

Her soul is tired now
and the only path she’d go through
was no longer runaway full of eyes
but an empty and quiet hallways

Her soul is tired now
and the dreams are no longer dreams,
they became possessions and hunger
that consumes her alive

Her soul is tired now
as the passion slowly fades away
and the flame in her eyes began to vanish
can’t you feel the absence of her warmth?

Dear little fighter,
I know you are suffering, struggling, and battled over,
I know how badly you wanted to get out of the maze,
The maze or the mess—neither does you a favor

Dear little fighter,
Never lose your hope no matter how dark the tunnel might be sometimes
Never lose that little faith in your heart that soon things will be brighter
Scream your heart out loud or in silence if it makes you feel at ease

Dear little fighter,
I'm not gonna say that everything is going to be okay,
I'm not gonna say that you will figure things out right away,
But I promise you there will be better days coming your way

Dear little fighter,
You are more than your war nor your pain
You are enough, and no one shall tell you otherwise!
There's a great warrior within you that collapses even The Great Wall

She disinterested in small talks outside the park
Instead, she craves for late-night confessions
sparing chapters in life that you both don't read out loud

She doesn't favor going to a fancy anniversary dinner
Instead, she thrives for adventures and long road-trip journey
without any maps or compass just so you can get lost together

She hates pop music everyone is singing along on radio
Instead, she's crazy about folks and indie no one heard before
and you will find a lot of vinyls in her room instead of discs

She doesn't want drizzle or light breeze
Instead, she wants a ******* hurricane and tsunami
that will wreck her apart and drown her soul

I was thousand kilometers away from you,
when a stranger bumped into me
he asked me where I was heading off
he asked me if I'm lost by the dead end

I remember answering that nothing to worry,
as I used to go solo and travel alone
'though he offered me help, I refused
it's the kind of kindness I can never repay

Years passed by until it comes to my senses,
how could I ever grasp his helping hand
while your fingerprints are still all over my skin?
while your voice still resonates down to my toes?

Youth was all we ever had, and
no matter how far I've come to walk away
every time I wander it goes directly to you
—I am running in circle

Afraid not of mistakes,
but a chance not taken

Afraid not of aging,
but a youth spent wasted

Afraid not of death,
but a life unlived

Come closer,

What do you see?

Look deeper,
There's more of her than what meets the eye
She might spell queen on her tongue
She might blind people with her glance
But don't believe anything you see

Explore further,
There's more to her soul than the physical shape
She might wear fire on her skin
She might imply strong on her wrist
But don't believe anything you touch

I think those who are in love on this era is cursed,
not that their love is delusional nor artificial
But because their manisfestation of love is perceived
by how society visualizes and defines it

We think someone genuinely love us because
they upload hundreds of photos of us
We think someone sincerely love us because
they write essay competition-worthy captions
We think someone truly love us because
they praise us at all of our selfie posts

To me, love is listening to a music
and suddenly it reminds you of them
To me, love is reading a good book
and suddenly wants them to read it as well
To me, love is when winter comes and all you ever think is whether they wear their warm clothes
To me, love is when the night comes and all you think of is how his day was

Well, then again, Chbosky once said that
"we accept the love we think we deserve"
And maybe we don't get to choose the way we love
or the way we want to be loved
Simply because we think it's the kind of love
that deserves us

The worst thing about losing someone to death is that
you didn't actually get that chance to pay your farewell

When they leave,
they just left

Suddenly, their brain refused to consume the oxygen,
their heart refused to pump the blood to the veins
It was almost felt like all those organs and cells had conspired together and finally come to their final conclusion

There will be days when you feel like grieving
and mourning over them are as normal as breathing

And it's okay,
it's okay

No one will ever get over death of loved ones easily
mostly because the "what if"s and "if only"s that follows,
Because the most painful goodbye
is the ones that never got the chance to be said

My dear sister, I’m sorry I wasn’t there
When they call you names and harass your crown on the street
When they tell you what you should or shouldn’t do with your body

My dear sister, I’m sorry I wasn’t there
When they pluck your honey against your will yet they tell them you enjoy it
When they touch your skin yet they left it bleeding and bruised

My dear sister, I’m sorry I wasn’t there
When they want you to cover your scars and pimples because they don’t meet the “beauty” standards
When they forcibly ask you to shave your hair because it doesn’t potray cleanliness and hygiene

My dear sister, I’m sorry I wasn’t there
When your rose is blooming and the moon is come but they show you their cold shoulders
When they make fun of your shape and laugh it off but they refuse to make a clean breast of it as an insult

Thus rise, dear sister
—for your pain is mine to carry
—for your wound is mine to mend
—for your war is mine to fight

i.
Some say that before you breathe your last breath,
all your life will flash before your eyes
so tell me, what kind of life you'd want to have?

ii.
Some say that having your heart broken is like
having your flash ripped and your bones fractured
so tell me, will you regret to have fallen in the first place?

iii.
Some say that when you miss a dead person,
the Heavens will let your voice be heard
so tell me, what are the words you are going to say?

Strangely, your existence feels familiar
I think I've seen your face somewhere,
or was it your voice that I heard?
or was it your skin that I touched?

Are you sure this is our first meeting?
I'm not quite sure, though, but if it is,
why do I feel like my soul has known you forever?
why do I feel like my heart has been longing for you?

Well, I can't help but wonder,
when your deep brown eyes met mine anxiously
when your tongue spelled my name fluently
do you, by any chance, recognize me too?

In the end,
You betrayed us and my trust
Your hypocrisy only goes so far
with each lies slowly unraveled

Perhaps,
You didn’t love me at all
You love the idea of loving me
You thought you knew what love was

To me,
Love is never a phrase
It’s always been a verb

For his heart is
as cold as
the Winter weather

and she was born
in Summer

I guess there are two kinds of people; The Sun and The Moon

The Sun kind of people are the ones who show the world how their presence is essential and inevitably crucial
While, The Moon kind of people are the ones who usually works behind the desk that their role is, no matter how significant, remain invisible

I guess there are two kinds of people; The Candles and The Matches

The Candles kind of people are the ones who would light up the others not minding how it could burn their own selves
While, The Matches kind of people are the ones who take advantages of everything for the sake of their own good without thinking it may harm and hurt the others

I guess there are two kinds of people; The Sunrise and The Sunset

The Sunrise kind of people are the the ones who meant to stay in our life, to finally prove that not everything is temporary, that sometimes people and things could last forever too
While, The Sunset kind of people are the ones who has always meant to teach us lessons from the very first place, but that doesn't make it less of them because a part of them will always exist on the darkest corner of our heart

She's a mess
She wakes up at noon with eyebags all around her face
And in her markings you'll find unreachable desires, hope, and wishes

She's a hurricane
She has millions of chaotic galaxies of thoughts
And in her mind you'll find thousands of tangled up worlds of words and places

But she's a masterpiece
She makes your brain explodes while it wanders to travel her body
And in her company you'll find how life imitates art—long before art imitates life

Romantis ya?

"Apa?"

Senja.

"Apanya yang romantis?"

Dia yang paling banyak berkorban daripada Siang dan Malam—Senja itu. Hadirnya sesaat, cuma sebagai peralihan dari Siang ke Malam. Dia sadar kalau dia luar biasa indah, tapi dia nggak egois.

"Nggak egois bagaimana?"

Iya, kalau dia egois, dia nggak akan mengalah pada Malam. Dia bakal minta waktu lebih lama sama Yang Punya Semesta untuk memamerkan keindahannya, tapi nyatanya enggak. Dia merelakan hadirnya cuma sesaat, dan memilih untuk mengalah atas keegoisan Malam yang ingin mencumbu Pagi.

Sore itu langit menangis sejadi-jadinya, seolah-olah mengamini resah hati yang dilanda lara. Kalau kita sedang melakoni drama, kuyakin bunyi tik-tik-tik itu 'kan menjadi latarnya. Kemudian sembari aku yang berurai air mata, kau pun mulai bertutur kata.

"Kurasa," katamu, "sudah tidak ada lagi yang tersisa di antara kita—selain sepasang raga dan nostalgia.

Namun tak apa, setidaknya aku sempat merasa bahagia dan lega luar biasa. Pertemuan kita adalah konspirasi terhebat sepanjang masa, yang disaksikan oleh seisi alam semesta beserta penjaganya, dan direstui oleh Yang Maha Kuasa.

Dan atas itu semua, aku bersukacita."

My mother never gave birth to a girl
Neither did her and my father ever raise a daughter
Yet, they raised a wolf—wild, fearless, strong, and resilient

They told me to howl at everything I found misfit;
to bark as a warning sign,
to riot as an act of resistance

As the wind unwinds the surface
The Savanna nods to The Shepherd gently
yet every steps he took left deeply-rooted footprints

He carelessly steps on her wildflowers,
and while he rest, he'd pluck some of hers
deep down he knows he's in dead end

The Savanna couldn't help her curiosity,
so she asked where is he heading off
and why he tossed his compass halfway to the ground

On the spur of a moment, The Shepherd fainted
his throat choked; like he wasn't allowed to say a word
little did The Savanna knows he was cursed

"I am no use of you," said The Shepherd.
"I am cursed to walk on my path with me alone;
I am cursed to left my soul in every steps I took
I am cursed to get lost in the midst of unknown!"

The Savanna embraces him tenderly
'tho every time he bawls out and enraged
for countless time she failed but she's persistent

"Let me take care of you," insists The Savanna
"Until your broken compass works again;
until you know where you are heading towards
—until then, let me help you."

And just like that,
The Shepherd found within her
his long-time quest; his very own oasis in the desert

Through the gap
between paragraphs,
I found remedy

Through the pause
between melodies,
I found serenity

Through the crack
between shattered glass,
I found wisdom

Through the space
between His fingers,
I found home

Your heart is an empty auditorium
during business hours
where everyone's too busy
to even see a play

It’s quiet, silent, and hollow,
like the cemetery at 3 a.m
and you will be frightened
by its silence

But as it heals,
the empty room will become
a hallway full of people
and it will foster

Until the emptiness turned into a parade
where broken parts march back
towards the eternal void,
and fill up the spaces

growing up feels like i turned five two days ago
i've been fifteen for years
wasn't i twenty just a few weeks ago?
all my friends and i are still ten
the week is going by so slow
an entire year has passed

this year i'm turning 25; tomorrow is 30

i hope i remember to breathe

There are glory and victory in every battles
Yet there are more bleeding and suffering
Glory doesn’t bring back the dead to the living
Victory heals neither scars nor wound, let alone fixing the broken ribs

There are villains and heroines in every war
Yet there are more desolation and devastation
Villains are written in history by the side who wins
Heroines are what they call themselves after slaughtering the innocent

There are rebellion and revolution in every regime
Yet there are more poverty and misery
Rebellion is done by fewer people against jeopardy
Revolution is an act of people power against oppresive authority

Like the calm before the storm
Like the silence before the tsunami
Like the feeling when russian roulette spins
Like a rollercoaster after it touches the sky
Like a sandcastle when the tide is coming
Like a house of cards—
We’re in constant danger of collapse

I was the anchor to your voyage
—and you were the poison for my heart

Every corner on this earth
feels like war zone

Every mouth of the people
tastes like revenge

How do we find peace
in this midst of chaos?

Kita pernah ada di suatu masa dimana rindu merupakan hal yang merapuhkan, sekaligus menguatkan di saat yang bersamaan

Kita pernah ada di suatu masa dimana hari-hari terisi oleh caci maki dan argumentasi—yang kini kusadari lebih baik mendengar suara ketusmu ketimbang tidak sama sekali

Perihal mimpi-mimpi, janji, serta harapan yang kandas di tengah jalan, aku turut berdukacita karenanya

I. Intro

"I'm as afraid; as exposed; as vulnerable, as you are right now," I remember saying it on the day you were born.

Falling in love scares me to death, yet I'm so glad I kept it open. It’s probably one of the bravest thing one could do—fully aware you are walking on eggshells and you could have your heart torn into pieces.

I guess love is the hope you feel in your chest when you meet someone and you just know, in a bizarre and all-consuming way, that they are going to mean a lot to you, that you are going to clear a little corner of your soul out for them.

Love is a mess—yes, but my God, is it ever a beautiful one.

//

II. Interlude

I still remember the day I met you for the first time again after 10 years passed by. You smiled at me that day, and the way you called me by my childhood name sounds so familiar—it is almost as if it never left your lips. You spell it fluently as if you recite it every day until the day we’d finally meet again.

“You were my first love,” you whispered to me tenderly, as I replied the very same to you.

Like a fairytale told in every classic stories, you came into my life out of thin air. I should’ve known by then that if something was too good to be true, it’s probably not true—or perhaps I was too naive to admit.

//

III. Encore

“We were in love and we were happy,” is the sentence I repeatedly mumbled to you as I hold back the scream off my lungs.

With all the sweet nothing, betrayal was something I did not see coming.

In the end, love alone is not enough.

You broke my heart when all I did was loving you.

Kurasa lebih baik begini; sama-sama melupa dan melaju

Karena melihat bagian darimu yang muncul dimana-mana—di pertigaan jalan, di kemacetan berkilo-kilometer yang menyiksa, di sudut kota yang hiruk pikuk, di sela-sela tugas yang menumpuk, di setiap lagu-lagu pengantar tidur—tidak adil rasanya kau masih juga muncul di pikiranku

Seolah-olah sebagian dari egomu ingin berteriak kalau kau masih ada; bahwa aku tidak boleh bernafas bebas tanpa menghirup aroma tubuhmu