Within these four walls
I befriend the darkness
and my shadow is
no longer an ally.
Fifty-three minutes
and twenty-seven seconds
later
I burst into
broken butterflies' wings
and deafening screams
to keep the light away.
"Solitude is bliss."
but I find my
disturbia and bravado
*within these four walls.

Why do you sleep with your eyes open
and why do you breathe out sighs everytime?
Do you still feed on
worries and uncertainties,
my love?
Are you still having the same dream every night
and will your shrug be a satisfying answer
to my otherwise unimportant question?

Your hazel eyes are now
almost a vessel
not quite empty
yet not quite filled
for it contains nothingness
and it holds them with care
as if nonexistence is fragile

But I want to stare into those eyes
and drown myself in the depth of that gaze
Once again

But I refuse to be strangled by guilt
Because darling from now
I'll stop sugar-coating words
Reading you make-believe allegories
Or sprinkling fairy dusts
of empty promises
I have ceased to be anything like you

Now,
why do you stay silent,
my love
when you can tell me to stop?
Is it because
you, too
are losing hope?

but
the skies aren't always blue
there'll be days where the flowers don't bloom
and the grass isn't always greener on the other side
but
the milk spills
and you get blamed
and you'll run out of cereal
but
everybody dies
and nothing lasts forever
but
it's a secret
you should not know
but
you won't walk this pavement again
because everyday is a bad day

but
you know happiness is a choice
- and that you need no reason to be happy
for reasons may leave
or be taken away -
amidst the buts

Why haven't you been writing lately?
Because I miss walking at the park
Passing by your house
Looking at you through the window of your room
So preoccupied
So absorbed.

Your soul is shrunken
into the end tip of a pen
and you let it dance on the paper
to the rhythm of your words
and later
fathomed into magnificent poems

But I've found the reason
on a yellow Post-It
in a secret compartment
of a music box
left at my doorstep

It says,
"Pardon me
but you've been interrupting
my train of thoughts
quite often lately.
How about scones and tea
after three,
just you and me?"
with your initials signed

The reason is me*
and somehow I'm happy

being in love with me
means you've agreed
that each and every of your remarks
will be portrayed in lines of my poems
exhaled as air of my every breath
to be let out as sighs and gasps.
the thought of you will run through
my tangling veins
engraved not in my skin but my bones
even when my body is crushed
you'll float as fairy dust.
your name
will be hummed in the melody
of my dearest lullaby
you'll be the reason i sleep;
you're the sweetest of dreams.

being in love with me
tells that you've agreeed
to be loved by this very being
that carries the definition of imperfections
till the day all seas have gone dry
till the hour all birds refused to fly
till Death greets us both
like old friends meeting at coffee shops

being in love with me
might not be one of the wonders
because i am a bird with a broken wing
a crashed airplane
a forgotten book
a rejected mixtape
an ignored museum
an unwanted company
to many
a nuisance

all that i can assure you is that
when

being in love with me*
the least i can do is
love you as a whole
in spite of your broken heart
your past
your flaws
your everything

      *- Qdri M (17/10/13 01.06AM) -

Do you still remember

The lavender scent
of home
The smell of spearmint toothpaste
of long-waited mornings
The first note
your mother taught
when you started playing the piano
The self-proclaimed lucky tee
You wore on every football try-out
The book you read
that only let you sleep when dawn came
The song you sang to her
right after asking
"Would you marry me?"
The cry
of your very first child

You may have forgotten
things you were so familiar with
things that were once so evident
But know that
They remained
They were waiting faithfully
For you
They missed you


And I bet they still do

I want to be the hands
that aid
the hurting heart, left and ignored
that shed
those tears in silence
the grief when the sobbing is not heard
because the voice of insurgent is too loud
I want to be the words
that comfort
the most restless of bodies, almost every night
that lifts
every of those who has thoughts about giving up

I want to be the hands
as well as the voice
that stop those innocent wrists from being slit
from bleeding unceasingly
the arms
that hug the body that wishes to willingly jump down
from the highest building in town

No other trigger will be pulled
No other rope will be hung
No other life will be taken

As long as there's hope

I had tea beneath the oak tree
With the zealous boy as company
"Does death scare you?" I said
"It saddens me.", he said.
And so
I took it as a 'No'

Because weeks later
Came the wine waiter
"He left with a smile one could never fathom
And for you, an anthem
To sing when in joy
Oh that poor boy"

For all the painful days there are to come
For all the persons I'll become
For the imprisoned demons to be released
For the rebellious angels that will never cease

I longed for the cloudless sky
And he told me for me he would buy

Incessant despondency killed him
Paramount dismay had swallowed him
Sadly, the whole universe wasn't in his favor
When his wrist was for the blade to devour

I still sat beneath the very oak tree
Still sipping my cup of jasmine tea
Hoping to succeed in helping another soul
From stopping loving oneself as a whole

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)