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Apr 2022 · 300
—mine, were.
claviculea Apr 2022
you were mine,
when the lights were off,
or when you were too blind to realize,
or when you were too in love to be aware,
that it wasn’t the person.
it was the feeling.
you don’t want the feeling, you just want the person.
Apr 2021 · 401
—hotline.
claviculea Apr 2021
[001]
Hello? Are you there?
Can you hear me out?
The bed was made by wood, and i feel it cracked under my body, in the urge of breaking, can you help me to fix it?

/This person is currently out of reach, try again some time/

[002]
Hello? Are you there?
Please hear me out.
The scarecrow was almost tumbling down, and i saw it flapping aimlessly, in a dire need of hold, can you help me to fix it?

/This person is currently out of reach, try again some time/

[003]
Hello? Please tell me you’re there.
I want you to hear me out.
The broken glass was scattered on the floor, and i can’t move without puncture myself, can you help me to walk?

/This person is currently out of reach, try again some time/

[004]
Hello? You’re there, aren’t you?
I need you to hear me out.
The maze is too dark, i can’t find a way out, i hear a faint scream, and the cold is eating me out, ripping my skin till they get ahold of my bone. Please don’t let me die.

/Hey, if you’re hearing this tone, i’m currently unavailable, but please do leave me a message, I’ll try to get back to you as soon as possible. Have a great day/

[005]
Hello? I know you’re there
So, you did receive those messages, didn’t you?
I couldn’t fix the bed, it was broken.
I couldn’t fix the scarecrow, it was broken as well.
I punctured myself, it was pretty bad.
I was dying, the cold eventually got ahold of my bone.
But yeah, that would be all. Be happy, will you?

/Hello? Hey, i’m sorry/

The number you’re trying to reach is unavailable. Please try some time again later.

/I’m so sorry/
Don’t forget to check on your loved ones. They might be suffering in silence or have been begging for help in silent pleas.
Feb 2021 · 417
—bukan aku.
claviculea Feb 2021
Kenapa diam?
Matamu berisik ingin berbisik—perasaanku ini asing, mengusik—tapi kamu tahu, kan?
Kamu masih diam.
Kenapa menjauh?
Aku bukan rumah tak bertuan—aku ini sudah dirumah—tapi kamu salah rumah, kan?
Kamu diam lagi.
Kenapa mengelak?
Setiap kenangan ada di angan, kamu langsung meninggalkan ruangan—jangan, jangan kamu, tidak boleh kamu—dirapalkan terus menerus seperti denting jam dinding tua diujung jalan, kamu takut, kan?
Kamu diam lagi.
Kenapa menyerah?
Rautmu tidak terbaca, saat iris kita beradu lewat kaca.
Begitu pula dengan langkahmu, yang berhenti setelah ujung sepatu kita bertemu.
Inginku kita bertemu lagi besok pagi, nyatanya mulutmu hanya tahu elegi—karena aku maunya dia, makanya aku meninggalkan ruangan, cukup dia—rasa ini mati sebelum sempat mendapatkan hati.
You desire the things that you want, not you need.
Feb 2021 · 515
—rumah.
claviculea Feb 2021
Aku pernah diajak pulang.
Senyumnya seperti figura kecil di ujung ruang,
Sentuhannya familiar seperti mainan usang.
Aku tidak mau diajak pulang.
Tangannya hangat seperti teh yang baru dituang,
Tatapannya halus seperti selimut yang sudah dibuang,
Tapi sekarang belum saatnya pulang.
Aku ditinggal pulang oleh mama.
Katanya dia tidak bisa berlama-lama,
Katanya dia masih orang yang sama,
Yang walaupun raganya sudah tidak bisa diajak bercengkrama,
Balut hangat cintanya akan selalu jadi rumah.
Homesick is never for a place, it’s for memories and the people inside it.
Oct 2020 · 223
—do not, do you hear me?
claviculea Oct 2020
You painted the road with your eyes.
Through the endless colors and shadows, i see you everywhere.
In the brightest color, under the blinding sunlight and the wicked heat, you splash the road with your frowned lips—‘why is it so hot today’—and furrowed brows, in which i’d replied—‘that’s how it is’—almost too fondly, too revealing.
In the darkest color, under the flickering city lights and the frigid night, you stroke the road with your vulnerable gaze—‘i’m scared, of everything’—to which your fingers fidget unconsciously, i’d replied—‘it’s okay, you’re okay, you will be’—definitely too fondly, obliviously revealing.
In one of the very rare dull days, you’d painted the road with no colors at all that got me wondering if you knew i see the way you color the road and one day you stopped to paint and whispered instead—do not fall in love—i heard.
Now i see you and hear you everywhere, splashing black and grey on the road and whispered—do not fall in love with me, not me—over and over again.
— you don’t wear your heart on your sleeves, i’m glad i get to see a glimpse of what beneath those sleeves —
claviculea Jul 2020
I see you in between the fragments of city lights. Neatly concealed in every nook and cranny, merging in various spectrums.
Eliciting a glimpse of epiphany, a struck of a nearly forgotten memory, playing in a solid second before completely vanished, perished among the fast cars and glimmering skyscrapers. The brief longing of our rendezvous furiously contradicting with our diminishing presence in each other’s lives, which frankly, is inevitable.
The notion of me having you in some part of my life was as tempting as having you in every part, yet every laugh reminds me to take what i get.

Again, i see your shadow slipping in the dimmed lights. Hesitantly announcing its appearance, of what i once treasured so dearly, disappear in a blink of an eye, clearly in the urge of fleeing away, in a dire need of vanishing, yet adamantly reminding me of the gentle ***** of your nose beneath the soft glow of street lamps, emerging a twinkle on your orbs.

Nonetheless, i watch your silhouette skirting around the buildings, gradually decreasing as i walk further and further, every step reminds me to bid my farewell in a valedictory laugh which I’ve never been prepared.
His heart is his himself and he isn’t indebted to reciprocate anything, and no one is obligated to stay knowing very well where his heart lies.
claviculea Jun 2020
Yang dipegang tidak ingin diikat, inginnya pergi menjemput belikat. Bukan rahasia kalau belikatnya adalah hidupnya, nanti dia tidak bisa terbang, katanya.

Yang diberi hati tidak ingin jatuh hati, dia sudah jatuh, katanya. Sedikit lagi sampai, katanya. Sedikit lagi yang dicarinya digenggamnya, katanya lagi.

Yang diinginkan bahagia juga inginnya bahagia, untungnya. Tapi bukan untuk satu sama lain, sayangnya. Tidak apa-apa, kan yang penting bahagia, katanya. Dia tidak mengerti, sayangnya lagi.

Dia tidak mengerti, dia ada menghantui sudut ruang, nyata dan berakar, langkahnya tak bergravitasi keluar sangkar, inginnya berputar melingkar, tetap tinggal, tidak meninggalkan.

Perasaan ini bermassa, dia sudah pasti tak memberi asa, sudah biasa.

Sudah biasa, tidak apa-apa.

Jadi dia dibiarkan kembali duduk di sudut ruangan.
We drown ourselves in sorrow by embracing our sadness, it’s okay, but don’t forget to pick yourself up and above everything else, we are ours alone.
Mar 2020 · 357
—jangan lagi.
claviculea Mar 2020
Hatimu,
Jangan kau patah-patahkan terus,
Retakannya sudah tergerus,
Jangan lagi kau bakar sampai hangus.
Air matamu,
Jangan kau tumpah-tumpahkan lagi,
Dia kan sudah pergi,
Kasihan kau yang rugi.
Kalau sudah begini,
Sekarang siapa yang tak memiliki nurani?
Dia yang menginjakmu dengan berani,
Atau aku yang masih berdiri disini?

- Untuk dia yang hanya menginginkan yang salah, jangan lagi.
will you stay still and look around for once?
Jan 2020 · 245
Lenyap
claviculea Jan 2020
Aku merasakan puisiku telah mati,
Saat setiap baris frasanya tidak sampai ke hati,
Tetapi dilumatkan di dasar api.
I wrote this 3 years ago. When i spent sleepless night writing and writing, but as i grow older, no words come up whenever i opened my notes and it struck me like an epiphany, “Am i incapable of writing now?”
Aug 2019 · 541
Ssstt
claviculea Aug 2019
diam ya,
Jangan beritahu semesta,
Aku cuma berbisik disini,
Di sela-sela hujan pagi ini
Kalo aku sayang kamu.
kamu sayang juga ga?

— The End —