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Erik Jan 18
perjalananmu pasti cukup melelahkan, bahkan menjadi buta pun bisa melihatnya dengan baik. ini, disini, rebahkanlah kekhawatiranmu yang semakin hari menjadi gusar dalam doa-doa yang tabah. akan kuganti dari setiap amin yang kamu titipkan pada malam diam-diam. hati yang kemarin kamu pertaruhkan untuk menemukanku dalam mereka laut yang kesulitan kamu pelajari siapa Tuhannya, yang telah bersusah payah kamu coba taklukkan.

tidak apa-apa. tenggelamlah sesekali, mungkin lima, teguk pilunya, dan pelajari dengan bijak. pada akhirnya, jiwamu yang diberi nama manusia akan piawai membawa diri. paling sedikit, penjaga yang tahu kapan dan untuk apa waktunya sepadan dengan raga yang tersedia.

aku akan menerima sebutan sialan, menyebalkan! dalam hidup bagai keputusasaan jarum dalam jerami dengan senang hati, malah. setidaknya, kamu adalah pelaut yang cukup handal karena aku, dari jatuh-bangun-tenggelam-terbentur-salah nama dan angkatan telepon yang kesalnya harus diangkat.

bahkan, syukurku akan terpenuhi menjadi sebuah tetes melengkapi lautanmu. aku adalah satu tetes yang akan cukup membuatmu rumpang kapan saja, yang akan kamu kejar dengan bodohnya kapan saja. katakan saja terdengar ganjil. siapa perduli. aku tidak akan menjadi mudah karena aku adalah pembalut kulit dan hati terlukamu dan akan selamanya menjadi tugasku.

namaku lebih dari sebuah harap. aku tak akan pernah dan ingin menjadi harap, sebab payah adalah nama kedua dari harap. aku adalah, “kamu bisa mempunyai bagian besar dari kue ini.” atau, “tentu saja. aku punya alasan untuk mengemudi dengan hati-hati dan kembali.”

namaku sederhana.
sederhana dan akan selalu nyaman.
setelah hari itu yang penuh prasangka dan tanda tanya dari dunia yang kamu kenal dan tidak.
namaku adalah seorang pelindung dan pahlawan yang gigih nafasnya, nama yang ketika rindumu akan lapar dan kehausan menemui pelepasnya.
aku adalah kemenangan dan hadiah kemurahan hati.

rumah.
Erik Aug 2017
;
It comes the day when a journey turned you into a storyteller, not just a traveler.
About leaving home and put it on miles.
To every gate that leaving you breathless.
Of how your mother recites your name released the half letting you go with the heaviness of the sea.
Of how your father holds his untold sadness.
Of how every hug stuck to heal your wounds to conceal your damaged smile.
Of how crowd catapults their hands, and your feet trembling of gallantry and shiver.
And your shirt fuse of the scent of home and strange places.
With hope in your cold fingers, this will bring you and things you left better.
"I will learn to let you go. And I'll do better."
And how your mind made peace with every chaos.
This raw mild, a journey of a doubter who braves to challenge the journey.
To every stranger you meet, and their tone of voices, and welcoming you as a wild bird from the far away home.
And you'll be tired.
And you'll be the missing piece.
And your head will shake its whirling.
But you are loved.
You are loved by the miles,
By the intersection.
And the universe embraces your pain and broken heart tightly and tuck you into the warmth of Nirvana.
*You'll make the kingdom strong again.
Erik Jul 2017
It's Friday and now I'm on my half leaving you.
I realized that the more I tingle on you the more not a human I am. Like a falling star, such a beautiful to saw at the beginning but when I try to reach your tip, you're gone and left me wondering whys. All at once we were mad, hopelessly in love. And we're hoping to cross the intersection (joke, miles.) but Heaven knows to better not. The wound sticks of tears and broken paths and become our own death song.
Now I'm on my half leaving you. when I say I'm leaving you, it means I'm no longer flinch at your name even though when someone recites your name, still a part of me not fully recover. I cage my own rib firmly and one day, I put it on the right lion.
I have a big heart and someday, someone will capable to run the same floor with me, sharing the same universe of thoughts; wild, soft, raw, and tender. I know, those are the fantasy while I'm half leaving you.
And this, so on forever, I will get to love better on give and give, and receiving more than the refusals that came from my own mattress, and soon to be found by someone who proves the refusals are wrong.
While I'm on my way.
On my half leaving you.
Erik Jul 2017
We've been there, taking the pills amongst the hills and the mountains, a long car trip, a night flight and the oceans.
The gates and its waiting; rain droplets, Petrichor, longing, cold coffee, bench, and dusk.
And I never knew that rolling your name out from my tongue could be as sweet as candy cotton sky.
That our feeling is raging within, after all these miles and crooked roads, home is gazing our shade eyes.
I don't mind,
I don't mind the miles,
I don't mind the crooked roads,
I don't mind the sea storms,
As long it leads me to you.
By that I found my new paper to write every poetry more than French melts its romance.
"…let's make fireflies catch us instead and let them light up our bones I want to feel magical. Who would've thought our paths would cross, only to make this beautiful mess with me. You make me want to live, you're a promise I want to keep,
To love you with abandon,
And leap far beyond anything I see…"
Erik Jun 2017
Love the way you telling me was abnegation, the promises of altruism that covered wonderfully well along with your I love yous.
Love the way you telling me was another name on your phone.
Love the way you telling me was sandcastle on a death shore.
I called you once my voice was husky,
I called you twice my feet lost its vigor,
The next calling you thousands I left my body.
I wonder too, things were good before the 16th end road and was you there holding a plank that wasn’t yours to mine, a wrong guiding home.
This love is an old wound putrefy into something that explodes a prime-fresh lung into a corrupt-empty-breathless lung.
But here I learn my lesson. and it’s not you the bridge that cultivates between scars and things I could show you, yes I will be the sea you can’t sail.
A great ocean worth the fervent sailor,
While you just a little bubble that died before it gets to touch my shore.
Erik Mar 2017
this is a page about how you broke her bones brutally.
blinded her days into the dark she can’t settle for stand.
“this is your sin.”
love was great,
love was strong.
but,
she felt small and very alone.
she has been good with broken things.
she is a big-bang of catastrophe, and an explode that erupt.
if you just didn’t promise, she was a whole without your shadow.
a promise is a sin.
and there are seas of promises bare of thunderstorm need to nurture as a feather inside her, because she is damaging with your bona fide lies.
a dudgeon.
her voice is hoarse, a singer of your sobriquet name.
nights are about no absolution and her cries now are noiseless.
she wander aimlessly to the 12 am’s
for her, this is death exactly looks like. A falling death.
a midnight snacks and frozen stories with her wall.
she locked herself in a funeral she called bed.
your love is fanciful story; interesting but unbelievable story.
“this is your sin, and now she’s a sinner.”
she is fragile and your love is boastfulness.
she was a rose and you brought her wrong.
this is her period of middlescence.
maybe you love her but your goodbye is more intimate on her guessing mind.
she was no longer a human, nor ghost in your grasp.
she is a belle of disaster.
but a million miles away,
you will beg her to come back home.
and missing her is the only thing you need to shrive.
she’s struggling the ‘regardless-you’ and deep in the ground up you know she will.
and you expect her to be whole for your bathos tub.
the riot that forms within your lungs.
and you enjoyed as a fabulist to her.
she was your joke and games.
a restless of her is altering poems.
her dictum soon to be as soft as the dusk who gives tender
to tame the seas inside her,
you have to tame her kingdom with thousands of armor.
and her Lord listens her prays.
when i write about things, i imagine first to be the most destructive thing. and i pour all my honest feelings about the thing. and writing for me isn't always about being me, or you, but about taking place to be something you never was. i hope you like it, and let's push each other to inspire.
Erik Dec 2016
red blushing upon your cheeks and those buttery lips are my spellbinder.
i wake before the sun cracks and make your favorite half-cooked egg with warmly table decoration near the windows.
the clock rose 7, i take you into a small giggles and walk amongst the casuarinas. and if it's windy, here's my skin to warm you up.
it rose 14 for the next list. i take you to the beach then all those charms are blossom.
it brights the sky and dusk bows the dodge of too's, that you're the limelight of today, yesterdays, and tomorrows.
suddenly, i forgot for what the aim of this life when bear in minds that i wouldn't cross through your veins.
piercing at clock and in groove your lips are pouting, let's back home. i'll drive the way back, the sun has set its bed.
for you are my wholly exception, i'll tame the seas and the catastrophes before. now paralyzed under my pale hands.
it, this, all's change.
about me before you.

clock rose to 22 and let me set our mattress.
fingers won't shaking, body won't tricky.
here, here sleep under my sky.
then i watched you shut those little eyes sing my movourneen lullaby.

here, sleep tightly and freely under my arms.
pray you, this mansuetude is the only mattress you going to wake when dawnlights blast off.
here, dreams in eden above my chest.
for you are my orb of tranche de vie, in quinquennium, 10, 100, 1000, 100000 days-to-years.
my body still the same shelter, beating in the same and constant rhythm.
don't hesitate, don't.

till the living ghosts and souls are testify me, under my vow of :
*"i'm the seas and the skies. i'm the whole story. the one who seats in love with you, draw my soul upon my life and my final breath,
to be the whole with you,
to be the whole with you,
to be the whole."
#love #romantic #lovers #beautiful
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