1d · 39
Epitaph

Missed I wasn't,
teardrops on my tombstone no longer;

Only a bunch of dandelions,
caressing the cold parchment
when nobody was around;

Blown by the wind,
left alone though it hasn't sinned;

Slowly withering to die,
consumed by cruel, cruel world
the same way as
I was.

My body ran cold and nobody to hold.
2d · 532
Love Letter #1

Dear Alf,

Hereby I solemnly pour down all my feelings for you in the form of a writing; waiting for you to read it.

Tired, sad, and mad.
Anger, emotions, and fatigue.

We've been through many things together, yet we haven't been through everything. All that we are is just an insignificant speck of dust around gigantic stars with planets worshipping them relentlessly; but I'm sure there's nothing and no one in the world who could worship each other more than us.

Despite everything, despite the madness,
despite the distresses — thank you for staying.

With love,
Detha

I haven't written anything for you in a long time, I think my skill is a bit rusty now. But worry not; I'll practice.
Feb 28 · 163
Adultery

In a world amongst the untrue, the wrongful, the two-faced; pseudo reality is taunting at humankind insolently.

To have faith, to be hopeful, to believe; only for them to trash and scatter what you've been believing in.

The betrayed, the deceived, the deceitful; carelessly and mercilessly succumbed upon their sins. Arrogantly looming upon all, unknowing and forgetful of those who sang prayers at dawn for them.

The smiles, the tears, the two-faced; o' the mighty entities everyone praised, not even Judas would have the nerve. It's a shame humankind is a fool; easily played and toyed with.

The denial, the anger, the bargaining, the depression, the acceptance; five stages of grief that I learned, only to know that I could never master.

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. The body is hollow, for the soul is in sorrow.

Why?
Feb 13 · 96
distance

"don't you worry," he said calmly,
"i'll be alright."

she stared at him in silence while tugging at the blue blazer he was wearing, still looking quite uneasy.

"but people can't seem help but set their gaze on a masterpiece when they see one," she half-whispered, her eyes looking down on the ground—an even more prominent sign of uneasiness.

"hey,"
he smiled, hands touching her face softly,
"do you trust me?"
he said as their eyes and foreheads met.

"i do,"
she said.

"i always do.
it might be hard for us to be separated for four full weeks, but i can't possibly stop trusting you.

i never could,
i never would."

he only hummed, then proceeded to plant a speck of his love
on her cheek,
on her forehead,
on her lips,
on her soul.

distance - as much as it extends, as long as it stretches, we'd only grow fonder of each other.
Detha Prastyphylia Nov 2016

Would you gently caress the tiniest dent?
Would you carefully examine even the most invisible scar?

Would you tell the demons inside of my head to stop being so loud?
Would you make the voices disappear?

Would you hold my hands to stop me from pulling my hair so hard?
Would you then pick up the strands of hair that fell apart?

Would you break through the noise of my cries?
Would you still whisper to my ears softly in spite of my screams?

Would you help me to breathe?
Would you then help me to live?

Would you still love me even when I'm utterly broken, to the point of no turning back?
Nov 2016 · 381
oh, my long lost pythias
Detha Prastyphylia Nov 2016

i used to be your damon,
you used to be my pythias;
but now we barely talk,
i endlessly wondered why.

not too long after,
i finally found out why.
turned out you find your new damon,
just like that i lost my phytias.

she got everything i'd never have,
and i got nothing to keep you close by.

photos of us remain in each of our instagram account,
only to be buried with your new friendship.

scary thoughts went through my head,
sleepless nights kept me awake for weeks.
am i that easily replaceable?
i said over and over again.

it's too abrupt,
the departure of yours from my life.
i couldn't cope,
losing you hurts more than a million heartbreaks.

i miss you,
but you're long gone.
the old you is no longer,
and i'm only left with a speck of memories.

damon & pythias is from a greek mythology. when pythias was sentenced to be executed, damon took his place to allow pythias to get his affairs in order. when pythias returned in time to save damon, the king was so impressed that he let them both live.
Jul 2016 · 493
will you?
Detha Prastyphylia Jul 2016

you leave yourself on my lips like gentle rain waters the earth, like the soft sighs of the calm, longing sea. be fierce and love me with all the insanity in you.

even though i am fragile,
i will not break in your madness.

i promise you.

a poem made by the love of my life, for me
Jul 2016 · 383
March 13th, 2016
Detha Prastyphylia Jul 2016

I never knew it was possible for blood to rush to my head rapidly until I got to hold your hands. The moment your skin touched mine, I was burning on the inside. You left a trail of fire with the movement of your fingers, slowly grazing me. I felt like I was in a state of trance when I was with you. At first I thought I was deprived of oxygen, but as I breathed deeply I knew I wasn't, because I still felt lightheaded.

It was you.
It must've been you.

It's been almost four months and it's still you.
Jun 2016 · 369
oxygen
Detha Prastyphylia Jun 2016

your very existence is like the oxygen;

you make my insides burn,
yet i just can't seem to have enough of you.

hell,
one minute without you and i'm already suffocating;
turning blue and purple,

lifeless.

i can't live without you,
even though you'll be the death of me.
Jun 2016 · 616
first kiss
Detha Prastyphylia Jun 2016

i said,
"i wasn't your first,
you left a trail of kisses
on other girls."

you said,
"they all taste the same,
but there's something different
about your mouth."

i said,
"since you're my first,
i have yet to have a taste of the others'.
yet the moment our lips met,
i was convinced that
i don't ever wanna taste any other mouth
but yours
ever again."

and you said,
"you may not be my first,
but i sure hope that
you're gonna be my last."
Jun 2016 · 850
Unfaithful
Detha Prastyphylia Jun 2016

When do you know that it's cheating?
When you let the feeling grows.

And then you did.
Jun 2016 · 613
Jealousy
Detha Prastyphylia Jun 2016

Jealousy changes you—it completely shifts your mind and paradigm and way of thinking and way of seeing things.

Jealousy  makes your brain cloudy with anger, unable to think clear.

Jealousy makes you succumb to the gruesome power of fear.

Jealousy raises up your ego in a heartbeat, making you defending yours like your whole life clings to it.

Jealousy takes your will to love—if it's still there at all. Because who knows loving someone could be this exhausting?

Jealousy makes you a repugnant, revolting human being.

...and jealousy has successfully done every single thing above, to me.

I am a repugnant, revolting human being.
Jun 2016 · 501
Fear
Detha Prastyphylia Jun 2016

Fear is such an ugly thing.

It gives you a sense of insecurity, knowing just how many things that can go wrong.

It gives you a sense of uncertainty, unknowing just what are the odds of the things that can go wrong—or would they ever happen at all.

It numbs you, making you lose the ability to feel. Because why would you even choose to feel, only to get hurt, if you could shut yourself down from the whole world?

It alters your mind, turning you from a logical human being to a big incoherent, irrational pile of mess.

And the most frightening thing of all, is that fear scares you so much that you can't do anything but giving in to it.

...but I'm still afraid to lose you.
May 2016 · 546
home
Detha Prastyphylia May 2016

i've always been mesmerized by the concept that sometimes a home isn't always in the form of closed doors and four sides of walls.
sometimes a home isn't always in the form of empty rooms and echoing goodbyes.

sometimes a home is a person.
and for me, that person is you.

there's no place like home,
there's no place like you.

inspired & based on a phrase by steffi
May 2016 · 221
fate
Detha Prastyphylia May 2016

i was a mere withering grass, you were a morning dew.
you succumbed to the power of gravity, i let the wind blew me away — we crossed path.

i was a palpitating mess with faint pulses beneath my skin;
and so were you, i found out.

we still are.

Apr 2016 · 201
conversation at dawn
Detha Prastyphylia Apr 2016

"you know what you are?"
"what?"
"you're both the stormy night and the calm morning after."

そうだ。

Apr 2016 · 294
break, broke, broken
Detha Prastyphylia Apr 2016

i've always been wondering why did i attract the most broken people
but it wasn't until i met you

you were never the prince on a white horse
but as the time goes on, every imperfection of yours becomes a clarity for me
and i cling to your beautiful mess of a flaw like my life depends on it

i want to mend the crippled parts within you
but you're the one who fixed me instead
i want to save you from the surging sadness
but you're the one who saved me instead

we're the broken pieces in the land of misfit toys
the misfits among the misfits
but we fit each other perfectly, pieces by pieces

Apr 2016 · 908
the day
Detha Prastyphylia Apr 2016

all this time, i could never imagine that this day will come.

the day when someone would actually make me a priority.
the day when someone would actually be willing to stay awake for me.
the day when someone would actually be willing to take risks for me.
the day when someone would actually look at me dead in the eye and tell me that i'm beautiful.
the day when i could actually feel that i'm being loved unconditionally.
the day when i could actually bare myself until the very last fragment; until the deepest, darkest piece of me.

all hell breaks loose when you and i found each other.

Detha Prastyphylia Apr 2016

“Tak ada cinta yang muncul mendadak, karena dia anak kebudayaan, bukan batu dari langit.” (Bumi Manusia - Pramoedya Ananta Toer)

Cinta bukan melulu soal siapa yang lebih dulu. Yang telah lama singgah bisa jadi sama rapuhnya dengan yang sekedar lalu-lalang.

Cinta bukan melulu soal detak jantung yang berdegup kencang, bukan melulu soal pupil yang melebar. Yang telah kehilangan nafasnya bisa jadi yang semenjak dahulu telah menyimpan asa.

Cinta bukan melulu soal hukum tawar-menawar. Saat sudah kehabisan apa yang ditawarkan, terkadang cinta dengan naifnya tetap menyambut dengan tangan terbuka. Persetan dengan hukum ekonomi, yang memberi kurang bisa jadi telah memberi seluruh yang mereka miliki.

Cinta bukan melulu soal mengabaikan ketidaksempurnaan. Justru cinta menerima seutuhnya, segala kesempurnaan maupun ketidaksempurnaan. Setiap gores dan luka, bukalah mata dan terimalah mereka dengan utuh. Yang terlihat baik bisa jadi membuatmu menutup mata atas keburukan mereka.

CINTA BUKAN MELULU SOAL APA YANG TERLIHAT, KARENA BISA JADI INDERA KITA DIBUATNYA LULUH LANTAK DI HADAPANNYA.

Mar 2016 · 657
About Me
Detha Prastyphylia Mar 2016

Some say she’s a maverick. She refuses to play by the rule, she’d rather create her own rule. Not that much of a rebel, just a bit free-spirited by heart.

Some say she’s a square peg in a round hole. A black dress amidst a wedding party. Ripped jeans among trousers. A pair of sneakers among pairs of high heels. A cup of tequila between white wines. But really, she’s only a misfit. She has always been one. An unorthodox individual living in a world where people must be the same in order to be freed of scrutiny. She isn’t afraid to cross the line of conformity. Even ever since she was little, she has always frowned upon the game of pretentious act that people around her have been playing. She often finds herself in question, for she is non-adhering to the idea of being a sheep flocking to the herd.

Some say she’s the epitome of late night shots taken by the distressed. Not as the last, desperate resort, but as the first aid.

Some say she’s the embodiment of the bitter aftertaste when you sip a cup of coffee that you got from a store stood on the roadside during your impromptu midnight road trip. She shows up by chance, looking plain as ever. But really, she’s a mild surprise once she gets her way into you. One that you might not expect.

Some say she’s a thorn wire disguised in vineyard. It isn’t quite easy to strip away of her self-defense. But once she’s provoked, she’s provoked.

Some say she’s a train wreck. And boy, weren’t they right. Her life might be a mess, but it is one hell of a beautiful mess she’s proudly living. If anything, she has mastered the art of living in perpetual, concomitant tragedies.

Some say she’s more of a goodbye than a hello. A bittersweet memory than a sugarcoated present. She’s never one of a dreamer, but she puts her hopes in the beauty of imperfections – of the feeling of loss. Experience has taught her not to make people her happiness, for they are but a fleeting moment of enchantment.

Detha Prastyphylia Nov 2015

don't tell me how to love.

not today, not now, not tomorrow, not ever. no, never.

show me.

Aug 2015 · 444
black
Detha Prastyphylia Aug 2015

black is achromatic, neutral, having no hue.
black is the color of void, the very epitome of nothingness - the absence of entity.
black is the symbol of uncleanness and impurities.

it is non-deity.
it is the only color that could perfectly capture our existence, for we are the mortals, we are the sinners.

without lights, darkness would still remain.
but without darkness, lights' significance would cease to exist.

Mar 2015 · 682
It's Raining, Again
Detha Prastyphylia Mar 2015

raindrops crashes into the soil, succumbs to the force of gravity. mother of earth seemingly wants to share its sadness, but doesn't know who to vent to.

gloomy sky never fails to stir the emotion of humans beneath it. for some, rain makes them feel calm and relaxed; some also might be reminded of their unrequited love, reminded of someone, somewhere.

meanwhile, i keep imagining how it's like to kiss your cheek only for a fleet second, how it's like to hold your hands amidst pervading petrichor.

but you're out there, holding your hands
with someone

somewhere.

Please, I want you so bad.
Feb 2015 · 611
Inadvertent
Detha Prastyphylia Feb 2015

i wonder, what was i thinking when i decided to fall for you?
but then i realized, i didn't
i didn't think, nor did i decide

i just fell

deliberately

Feb 2015 · 739
Herds, Herdsman
Detha Prastyphylia Feb 2015

she's a mess.
a repugnant creature who doesn't know how to live a life, merely surviving. nods to everything she's told to do, a wretched sheep following herds of lost souls. how does one never thinks for herself?

he's a mess.
a human with no humanity, lost his every sense to feel. delusional wight blinded by power and wealth, his money-driven grandiose reveries full of portentous capitalism. big-mouthed, greedy mortal who lech after status quo, speaks in vanity but no truth ever comes out.

this is about the current political condition in my country, indonesia.
Feb 2015 · 539
Signing A Death Wish
Detha Prastyphylia Feb 2015

Your breath reeked of coffee and cigarettes
I could sense them beneath every single word you said.
A scent so pungent
yet it never failed to make me feel
like I was home.

I’d never been fond of smokers,
but I liked this melancholy vibe you emitted
every time you inhale your cigarette
or take a sip of your coffee.

I liked you the best when you looked so vulnerable
with your hand holding a cigarette,
hair messed,
and mind stressed.
I once caught a sight of it and got my eyes fixated on you.

Maybe you were clueless
just how you could left me
so breathless
I was wondering if it was your smokes all along.

And before you knew it
I felt like I wouldn't mind ditching oxygen
just to be able to breathe nicotine
alongside you.

Some people said that
falling in love with a smoker was like
writing my own suicide letter.

If that was true
I would let your habit consumed me
I would still give myself to die slowly with you

Until we both cough blood
from perpetual toxic we inhaled

Until our sleep-deprived selves weep for caffeine
you've always longed for the longest time.

Sep 2014 · 604
Iron
Detha Prastyphylia Sep 2014

and you left me so hollow,
like a mere slate of metal;
so much space
like it’s nearly a thousand light year,
the distance between
keeps stretching;
the way you softly rupture the very existence
of my eventual broken bones,
like a block of iron during the storm
left to corrode.

Detha Prastyphylia Sep 2014

you and i, you and i
dreamcatchers blown by the wind
world maps crumpled full of
what it seems to be a trace of late-night roadtrips
laidbacks in sneakers and flannels nonchalantly strolled the road

you and i, you and i
never got tired of prose, whispering a life to handwritten mess
on our backs we feel heaved carrying dreams that seemed like forever
what a wanderlust soul that we both have

show me the limit of the sky
tell me about the universe inside us, and all the stars, and broken dreams
sing me a goodbye lullaby
run me a thousand miles to the top of the world
and we will scream our lungs out
this night is ours

life seems like at its fullest whenever we are together
writhed, we refused to fall back into
heartbroken poems we wrote on our once scarred wrists
small talks, bitching about our enemies, about light colored eyed boys

there's no mistake amidst
seven billion people on earth, seems like we got lucky with our fate

My version of "Escape", a song originally by @Steffi.
Check her work out on Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/krstyspn/escape-original
Detha Prastyphylia Jul 2014

a bed so big
a room so empty
a void that you left
is slowly killing of me

hugging a pillow during my sleep pretending it was you, was the loneliest thing that i’ve ever done; constantly wishing how nice it is if it were your hands that i was holding

but no,

my fist clenched the bedsheets in the most distressing way possible; to think that i got used to waking up facing the cold wall pretending it was you made me contemplate nonstop:

what if someday i got accustomed to the coldness and the silence so well, that i couldn’t take the heat and the hitch between each of your breath?

Detha Prastyphylia Jul 2014

“恋してる。”
“私も恋してるよ。”
Looking at the picture of your house made me daydream about the day when I finally stood in front of your door and you waited for me to knock. My hands hovered with hesitation, trembled in vain, held by the bind of doubts and what ifs. I did not knock yet you knew that I was there, just like that you felt my presence; I could barely remember when did you start became so intuitive. Door slammed open, two pairs of eyes met for a fleet second and hands intertwined that instant. Our souls entangled and we swore in that moment we were infinite. Your very self broke down and I myself ruptured when we decided to lock the door and got ourselves enraptured by the feelings of regret, with cheeks wet and hairs messed. We caught each other’s clothing damp with god knows how much tears, yet we did not seem thirsty. I would not dare to say that we were sober, as we perpetually drank shots of our life essence—shaken, not stirred—and got a little intoxicated. I could taste our consciousness altered, surging like a mind-numbing deluge within our insides; I was afraid that we might get hangovers by the time the sun rose. Your fingers traced down my veins, yearned for unceasing strong pulses and tried to elucidate that it was not a dream, that it was not a pure delusional fantasy resonated by a mere cerebral cortex. Hearts beaten by the way we caress every single affliction that bonded the two of us, broke free from the misery we deliberately lived. Pieces by pieces you filled the cavity that used to draw close my heart and it was long gone after you. Now that we literally got each other’s back in our grasp, I could imagine how fragile yet how sturdy these very chassis that held two living beings could get. The boundaries fell into oblivion as we slowly melt ourselves together; like ice cream in the sun, like iron in the welding pit, like wolves beneath the moon, like thunder on the shore shut silent by thick clouds of entity. Fingers crossed that there would be no more 3.444 miles and two vexing timezones away between us. Like tempered glass on a car crash, I crumbled and I gave myself to you as whole. Our breath so fervent, fire could not seem to burn us. Knees weaken thus bodies slid down the wall, creaked the wooden floor and just like that shoes scattered and so did our heads, thoughts messed just the way we liked it. One year, two years, five years, ten years, one divine eternity and I still would not let this moment lapse.

— The End —

 
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