Siapa

Bukankah kita pengembara
Tersesat di antara tanya
Mencari tempat pulang, mereka-reka
Ke mana harus singgah, di mana
Dapat berteduh
Selamanya.

Kelak, di dalam relung perutku
Akan tumbuh bunga yang mekar sepanjang tahun
Setiap langkahnya semerbak dan singgahnya berjejak warna

Atau muncul sebuah samudera di sana
Berkilau diterpa terik mentari
Segar membasuh segala yang menghadangnya
Dalam;
Dengan biru dan hitam yang memikat siapa yang melihatnya

Ataukah langit yang bermukim dalam hangat rahimku
Merona jingga berbalut syahdu
Memeluk dunia dengan tulus dan tanpa ragu

Namun, saat ini
Izinkan aku
Bergelung bersemayam di dalamnya
Bersembunyi di sana
Selamanya.

If you ask me what happens
After three
I'd say

The new wedded couple
Is trying to calm their baby
After seventy hours
Of crying

The happiest
Zombies
The world will ever see

While the broken ones
Are still trying to figure out
How life gets there

Stuck between what could've been
And what will never be

When
Some young souls
Are still looking for meaning
In clubs
With paths to figure out
And feelings to talk about,

The olds
Wake up every fifteen
Trying their hardest to reach
The toilet
Before it's too late

But the smart ones
Are still on their date
With books and equations

Finding happiness
In unusual places

And oh
The righteous ones
Are praying their heart out
Leaning towards the floor
Whispering gently

The sincerest
Lovers

I'd say
A lot happens
After three

Then there's me,
Snoring like a hog.

Too Early To Be Late

In a world full of myself
Everyone loves me

They try and compete
To conquer my heart
In every
Way

In a world full of myself
Anything is easy

Mountains bow, and
Rain stops
By the tip of my fingers

In a world full of myself
Every street and every corner
Is meant to make me
Happy

The hours are made of songs
And moments hum
Like lullabies

In a world full of myself
The skies are my canvas
And the trees read me poems

As I paint the universe
In nothing but
My
Colors

So why is it that
In the world full of myself
I still
Hate
Me?

Dan jika pekat kota siang ini
Tak jua membisikkan namamu
Dari balik rapuhnya kaca yang
Melindungi kita dari kejamnya angin
Dan lembutnya angan

Kelak
Saat warna gedung-gedung itu telah pudar
Terik kan mengingatkanmu
Atas kelabu

Dan aku.

Letters To A Cliff

I will not love you
Like the wind
Plants kisses on your edges
When it wants to

I will not love you
Like the sun
Holds you in its warmth, yet
In some mornings
You're burning
In flames

I will not love you
Like the birds
Sing you lullabies
When you can't sleep
And leave you wide awake
In the winter

Just let me be the waves
And I will crash
My each and every bone
Towards you

Now
And forever

I know I am the least
Of your favorite
Right now

I have torn every beautiful
Innocent
Piece
For granted

Yet here I am
Knocking on your door, reaching
For your ever giving hands, grasping
For your ever loving
Plans

Whispering,
Please?

Every year I come here to celebrate the day she left me.

Ten years ago, there was mostly grass in this field. We used to come here and watch the clouds pass by. I told them the truth; I had a wife that was terribly too kind for everyone, that she wanted to help the world so much she wished to be buried within the forest, so that her body would be a part of their growth. See? She had a flawlessly beautiful heart that I would do anything, anything, for her.
But I never quite understood why she left. They said she probably got bored, or she ran away with someone else and changed her identity because even after five years, not a single trace, not even a body, was found. The police gave up eventually.

I told them the truth.

But little did they know, that day she told me she wanted to die. She was more than perfect, but maybe depression does blind one's eyes. It broke my heart when she kept telling me her departure would make the world a better place.

I wanted to save her.

But how could I say no to that face?

"In ten years," You crossed your legs beside me. "Where would you wanna live?"

"Hm.." I narrowed my eyes, thinking carefully about what could happen. After a long moment I pointed my finger to a small shadow behind the trees, next to the suburban area.
"There."
You smiled. Your hair danced to the touch of a morning wind, kind of like the grass upon these hills

"Where would you?" I glanced at your nervous laugh.
You lifted your finger up to my place, shoving mine aside.
I moved my finger back, trying to land it where I pointed. You insisted.

"Hey!" I squealed, "That's my place."

It took you a brief second until I heard,
"Exactly."

"Is your mom a pilot?"
I walked towards you with a cup of cold tea, just the way you liked it--a little too sweet for me.
You frowned.
"No, where did you get that idea?"
I shrugged.

You started sipping the iced comfort as I said,
"Your sister told me she loved to fly like your mother.."
You choked a little.
"...and she'll tell her that she likes me when you two get home."

I giggled.
But then I couldn't forget the way your skin paled and you looked at me in such horror.

"Rach," Your voice trembled,
"My Ma jumped out of our ninty-feet balcony three years ago."

A Place Like Home

Am I a crack on your walls?
Do my bones creak when you hold your doors open at two?
Is my skin ruptured
Every time you sink your forehead to my surface
And your tears fall
On me?

It never occurred to me how
Storms come in pages
Of the photographs
That were never taken

A warm silence
Behind the answers
That are far
Too
Bleak

I am my own victims and villains
And all the tragic ending
That is yet to come

I am a library of a thousand
Gloomy
Fairy tales

But on the corner
There's this book
Where your voice is painted all over chapter seven
In fifteen lines
Lies a carving of your crooked smile
And the sentences
All written in future tenses

Gelas Kaca

Suatu hari nanti aku akan masih saja duduk di atas kursi kayu teras belakang, memakai  daster batik yang sudah kusam. Bermain dengan kucing-kucing sambil melihat mobil melintas di jalan tol, atau memaksa si belang duduk diam di pangkuan sambil mencari kutunya. Ibu mungkin sedang sibuk di dapur dan bapak asyik membaca novel di kantor. Atau mereka sedang duduk di depan tv, saling merangkul, mengejek dengan penuh canda. Tenang karena masakan percobaanku sudah tertata rapi di meja. Saling mencuri peluk dan kecup saat aku berada di luar sini. Mendengarkan obrolan mereka yang selalu membuat iri, sambil diam-diam membiarkan kepala ini berlarian entah kemana. Liar merangkai cerita, menerkam nostalgia; atau mereka-reka mengapa retorika yang pernah datang dan pergi tak pernah bisa menyatu dengan bait-bait yang kuucapkan, sementara kau hadir tanpa kata dan sajak itu mendadak utuh--hampir sempurna.

Lalu kau akan datang ke teras belakang rumahku, dengan senyum lebar yang menyipitkan matamu dan melukiskan gurat-gurat pipi yang kuhapal benar setiap lekuknya.

Kau akan datang,
Dengan rencana
Atau secarik tebal bertintakan emas di atasnya.

Manapun yang kau bawa,
Kau akan datang
Dengan senyum dan gurat-gurat pipi
Yang kuhapal benar setiap lekuknya.

Pertanda kau sedang bahagia.
Dan bagiku, itu sudah lebih dari cukup.

Merah Hitam

Aku tidak pernah berencana untuk mati di sini.

Di tengah tumpukan bara yang menyelimuti salju, dan makhluk fana yang bertingkah seolah mereka telah terbiasa. Dengan api yang menyala-nyala. Dengan neraka.

Makhluk-makhluk bodoh itu hanya berkicau tentang mentari yang setiap pagi menyapa sang embun dengan hangat, berusaha menjaganya terlelap sebelum hujan turun dan membawanya pulang. Dan mereka menjeritkan pilu mentari saat embun tergelincir dan tenggelam dalam gelap tanah yang menertawakan keduanya.

Padahal, sedari dulu, tanah melindungi embun dari panasnya mentari yang menguapkannya. Lalu mereka melebur dalam satu, meninggalkan dunia yang tidak pernah berusaha mengerti sepenuhnya. Akan segalanya.

Tapi, kau peluk aku di tepi jurang itu. Maka kucumbu angin dalam detik-detik indah dengan debur ombak yang berkejaran mencium punggungku. Aku tertawa, dengan air mengalir dari kedua mataku. Dan ranting yang membelit sekujur tubuhku. Membawaku masuk ke dalam tumpukan abu dan air yang bercampur menjadi candu.

Kau bunuh aku.

Jauh sebelum aku tiba di sini, menikmati kota dalam pendar bulan dan remang lampu di pinggiran jalan. Menghindari lalu lalang dan semua hiruk pikuk penuh kebohongan, dan, rayuan gombal. Hingga aku tiba di sebuah kedai kopi dan merebahkan diri dan tiba-tiba seorang gadis menghampiriku. Rambutnya tergerai bebas, hitam legam menambah kontras pada kulitnya yang pucat. Ia tersenyum padaku. Berkenalan, basa basi, hingga menawarkan diri untuk bersama denganku. Setidaknya malam itu. Aku bergeming, mengalihkan pembicaraan yang berputar di sekelilingnya. Dan di satu saat, aku tertawa. kencang sekali, hingga mataku panas dan aku meninggalkannya termangu - mungkin kecewa telah dicampakkan olehku. Aku berlari menyusuri jalan sepi, menenggak harapan dalam botol ketiga yang kubawa malam itu. Mencari bulan, tuhan, atau siapapun yang dapat mencabut hitam di pelupuk mataku.

Tidak, tidak. Aku tidak patah hati. Apalagi depresi. Aku hanya perlu menemukan jati diri, seperti kata orang-orang di ujung jalan sana yang terus memperhatikanku dengan tatapan iba dan bisik menjijikan yang mulai membuatku berteriak marah sambil mengacungkan botol pecah dalam genggaman tanganku. Mereka menjauh. Ketakutan. Untuk pertama kalinya pada malam ini, aku merasa senang.

Lalu aku mulai melihatmu. Di bangku taman, dengan jaket kesayangan dan ranselmu yang mulai usang. Aku melihat kau dan aku bercengkrama di bawah lampu jalan sambil menunggu taksi yang tak kunjung datang. Aku melihatmu mengecup pipiku lembut di teras, mengira tak ada yang memperhatikan. Aku meilhat kita bergandengan tangan di atas jembatan, menikmati indahnya kota dalam pelukan malam. Aku melihatmu bersandar di bahuku, berceloteh tentang film yang kita tonton tadi siang. Aku melihatmu di atas gedung, di bawah pohon, di samping kedai, di setiap penjuru yang kupandang, di saat aku melihat, saat aku memejam…..

Aku melihatmu dimana-mana.

Dan tiba-tiba aku menabraknya. Seseorang berperawakan tinggi besar yang mulai meraung dan mendorongku. Lalu kita bernyanyi, dengan jemariku yang menelusuri tubuhnya - dan sebaliknya. Kami menari, berlenggok di atas deras hujan,

Dan hal berikutnya yang kutahu, ia mengarahkan pecahan kaca itu pada tubuhku - dan aku tergeletak dalam merah dan hitam yang bergelut dalam diam.

Ia telah berhasil, sayang.
Ia telah berhasil mencabut belati yang kau hujamkan tepat di jantungku.

Aku tidak pernah berencana mati sendiri.
Tapi, kini bebas.

Perpustakaan SMA, 

4 Mei 2013

Flowers

I have spent so many nights wondering if I should listen to the splashing color thrown to the walls of my throbbing heart, paint my mind with your half crooked smile; or would it be better if I dive through the deep ocean, searching for a light in the middle of the twisted tint–fading.

I still can’t find the answer.

I have been looking for a soft whisper in crowded halls, a gentle touch among the raging waves; a genuine tenderness.

I could not hear a thing.

I have kept a stack of feelings behind my bedroom door, locking them away, not knowing how the roof had been long gone and what seemed like a laundry pile is now an overgrown mountain.

You should see how stunning the sunset looks like from up here.

I have walked through the wreckage of our past, picking up every bit of shattered glass and scraped paper and wooden frame of the memories we had not made yet until my hands were full, but there were too many things I could not hold. Too many words I could not write. Too many us I could not long for.

If I decided to lie beneath the ground, would y–

Would it heal everyone?

"Come, sit with me" He said.
"One day when we're old, we will remember this exact moment." His eyes lightened up, catching every inch of the scenery in front of him.
"And what will you think of?" I mumbled while chewing a chocolate bar, moving my feet up and down immaturely.
"Oh, these old cracked walls and wet bench and tall shady trees--and this view we're looking at; all that might just be a memory, twenty years from now."
I nodded.
"But most of all,"
He sighed and looked at me, softly.
"I'll be thinking of you."
I could see a tiny spark of gloom in his dreamy eyes.

They were walking on the left side of the road, watching the cars that moved in a slow motion; a hundred faces with a hundred different stories.
It was almost a hot day.
He wore a striped jacket and she accused him for stealing it from a zebra; and they laughed at her lame jokes, his unamusing puns, and their unbelievably dry sense of humor.
The pavements were filled with nothing but giggles, and yellow, and pink.
But she was wondering
Why did it feel like she was ten feet under the water, grasping for air---drowned in a pitch black sea?

"What if," She whispered.
"What if summer remains the same and the sun shines too fondly that rain makes no sense at all?"
They stared at the coffee table, letting the words float between the air--and the question marks.
"What then?"
There was only silence.