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Anggita May 17
yesterday my thoughts lost in the pines
i heard a rustling of leaves crooned
the sunlight sheepishly trespassed between the thick branches
and I stepped forward, and I slipped
then I stood up seeing the hollow
it was left ajar
although undeterred, I was afraid
of uncertainties thrilling my veins
suddenly my body flitted like water roaming in a drainway
my mouth spoke an unknown language
of pain
and ache
unfamiliar faces cherished my appearance
it was vague, not that dim
and they said I was born.
Anggita Aug 2018
i make love to the ocean
in the morning sailors watch me cuddling with the waves
so noisy, we palpitate the massive rises and downs,
travel thousand miles till we reach the distant inland.

we find no clue where we belong.

i kiss the sunlight
in the twilight we beguile in silence
exploring the ocean of nakedness;
the pale pain and long-lost sorrow
as the choir of seagulls dancing upwards.

we forget how we become afar.

i greet the limitless darkness
with a pair of eyes half-closed,
and a restless soul that longs for home.
so we unite, the sea and I
as nothing matches the golden slumber.

and we become one.
  Jun 2018 Anggita
Nic Mac
Distance, is this air around me that is vacant of you.
Your heart, so far from mine, though I can hear it’s music.
Patience, is the belief that time without you is bearable.
Seconds slowly scrape along the line I drew to wake.
Nothing matches this ache.

of opening eyes to mornings, without your laughter.
Closing them is redundant,
it does not permit me back, to revisit the dream I had left you in.
Eyes instead reluctantly greet the sunrise,
whilst yours are still dancing, flickering, in the gift sleep brings.
I wonder if your searching for me.

Impatient hands long to pull you prematurely out of slumber. Reaching across this border in vain, restless mind teasing me,
as it thinks of holding you, kissing you, here. now.
Dare I soften the white peaks of the mountains that part us?
I mustn’t, thinks the patient witness of time I’ll wait for you on the other side my dear...join me, soon, I wait eagerly.
the wait for wakefulness as they sleep still....

By Nic Mac
Anggita May 2018
Darling,
aren't we tired,
swimming each other sorrow?
Let's sleep side by side
and feel the tears on our pillow.
Anggita May 2018
Flesh and bloods and clattering cries, the fear between my toes soaking.

I stood ajar, no longer felt the pain. It drenched nowhere seen, or perhaps I just forgot how it seemed.

For the world were full of sinners, for preventing you to sin. That was how much I sacrificed.

For I may deliever you from evil, for how much love I've treasured then. I solemnly prayed.

I prayed as you were unborn today.
Anggita Apr 2018
Love is deceiving: that it can put you into a chaotic hurricane of misfortune yet you will keep being so blindly lucky.

Love is manipulating: that sometimes it becomes an ultimate tool for a person to politically dominates you. It mops your own self-authority.

You'll eventually become controlled. You'll be owned, you'll be toyed, that the presence of yourself means nothing more than just a belonging brought along.

Love is voracious: that it always makes you so greedy for affection, and craving more than just attention.

As the things don't go straight forward with your wish, and you don't get what you hardly need, you'll be left suffocated. You'll gamble your very lack of happiness only to be evaporated.

Love is lonesome: that every night, it will let you so sleepless, envisioning to a constant uncertainty which frustrates you to the utmost.

There will always be a constant battle in your mind that will dig the hollow so deep beyond the control. You'll soon use to the clattering cries and more simultaneous tears evoked.

But the good thing, it will sharp your melancholic soul elegantly: so exquisite that you'll paint your feelings in a train full of letters.

You'll possess the ability to bewitch gibberish into an excruciating enchantment for the woeful lovers. Those are the one whose joy are scattered to a blow of ashes.

- April, 24 2018, 02:23 AM.
love is suicidal after all.
Anggita Apr 2018
"This country is getting so much sickening." said you, while kept holding my body tight.

I told you that our country was not a peaceful place to spend the rest of our lives in. The moral panic and all those prejudices towards marginalized people were beyond words to describe.

"We're not running out of tolerance, we're having lack of literacy, our nation is." said you.

You told me that people should maintain their interest to read books as well as to publicly share their own point of views.

I murmured quietly that it just what it usually was, since the year of Our Prophet was born into this ****** kind of hell aka world.

You closed your eyes gently. I always love seeing your eyes closed. I felt peace in me. It was quiet great to know this kind of feeling exist.

And after all we spent the rest of our times talking about our worries about the future of our country, and the fear of our own future. Yet, some quiet time also spent to tease me talking about my favorite lipstick shades. You said I was a fool for collecting all those stupid make-up kits, so was I. You were right.

We discussed anything except our own certainty. Because the uncertainty we possessed is what keeps us alive.

"Let me hug you."

I said nothing but hugged you even more.

At least I could feel your heartbeat. The life in you, was what amazed me, and still amazes a little soul inside of me.

You should know, with no word to say, all in me murmurs quietly, how mesmerizing it is knowing you are here.
the certain fact is now he's gone.
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