I made a list of caveats For the designs you constructed, From thoughts in my mind And for one, you know me too closely It is too frightening The way you find constellations In broken skies And propriety from my colouring Outside the lines Then, within my bones, too unstructured, You found the sun in their moonlight complexion And you confess your secrets That these letters and conversations we’ve exchanged Hang in a gallery in your head
Etched sentiments And faded drawings of everything resolute
It is not a mere assortment but a testament to the sentiment we share, A bundle of heartfelt glee I present to you, An array of colors crossing symbolism itself, A gesture reigning classical to say the least, A bouquet of roses for you my dearest, My sincerest regards.
I bet the sounds inside my head were noisier than the sounds of cars that jammed in the middle of traffic in Surabaya. Especially when it comes to rush hour. I often caught myself were slowly dying. And I'm not even sure who the hell I am. But I'm always like this, isn't it? Isn't it a tragedy? For being someone who watches me with misery. That's why I made this poetry. But someone out there is despising this part of me. I wrote this because my capability with words that I put and I spend to think are well composed than the words that I never been able to say out loud. So please, honks by all means. So I wouldn't hear the sound inside my head was talking about.
you wont ever see me dance in up(r)ple rain or the way my eyes glint in the setting sun (y)ou wont catch our scent of coffee or feel the soft lingering of my h(a)nd you wont taste the cherry o(n) my lips or hear my unfinished lullaby
you wont talk to me anymore. you made sure of that too.
(you) *******, you(h)eartbreaking familiar stranger take it all back (u)nset ou(r) da(t)e and senti(me)nts (take it all back)