She walked through that door
With crumbled tiny flowers
In her pink palm

She buried those little petals
Near the stone
With his name
Engraved on it

She could no longer cry

Pale hands, white face
Ballet shoes and blood-stained dress

There was no soul inside

She fancied that shiny metal
And the red liquid so thick
Oozing from her innocent wrist
Under the dim light

She closed her tired eyes
Whispered his beautiful name
And drifted away to meet him.

Maybe I’m not good with words
Or maybe there is none
That can portray precisely
The perfect being that’s standing
Right before my eyes
The way those eyes sparkle

When the beholder smiles.
Or when he laughs
One will not deny how contagious
That laughter is.
For I’ve known him long enough
To tell that
His comforting words have done
Just as good.

Behind those glasses are the eyes
That have looked right into mine
And let me believe
I can conquer mountains
Swim across the ocean
Fly among the fluffiest of clouds
Stand at the top of the world

I am fearless

Even at times I almost lose myself.

trembling hands
and cold fingers
longing for something
to hold on to.

the thought of you
runs through my veins
every now and then.

but eventually
it all fade.

the vivid image
of beautiful memories
of yesterday.

like scattered papers
and shattered glasses.
no one wants them back.

not me.

not even you.

now crumbled hopes are
held in my palms
waiting to be buried
in the snowy grave
on a cold dead winter.

may the ghost
of you
be gone
forever.

To whom it may concern

thank you
for making me love numbers
for being the inspiration to my poems
for shaping a stronger me
for making me love Foster The People
for sharing the same passion
for introducing me to new stuffs

for telling that i can do anything
and making me believe it
and finally be able to do it

for the last-minute words of encouragement
for the endless care you’ve shown
for the friendship you’ve offered

for the time you’ve spent
or  probably wasted

for letting me know your family
letting me love them

for the priceless memories
the good and the bad

for being a hero, a guardian angel and a lover

.

.

though a sky of gratitude
will never match,
thank you

kadang-kadang tensi

kerana aku ada

tiga puluh tiga

sebab menyayangi engkau.

susah nak lupa.

tapi nasib baik

akhirnya aku jumpa

tiga puluh empat

sebab untuk berhenti.

tapi bukan membenci.

Your words aren't as clear as they used to be
And I despise every tangible flower that grows
Inside my lungs
Because of those uncertainty

A basket of hopes sold
To the girl who weeps by the fountain
You have her dreams in return
Crushed to tiny pieces

I will leave you alone
In your sanctuary
With your lies as your fort
Fret not

My soul's dry
I will not avenge
Because to forgive is to resuscitate
(I promise)