Category: my kind of ROMANCE

I Should Be Talking to Nothing

I’m with myself.
Sun has gone for so long, only leaving traces of darkness to emit till the corner of this room,
My eyes reflecting the imagination of yours.
I caress the dark air yet I convince myself that this is your hot body,
Rigid and heavy,
Unmistakably melt in my touch.

I’m only with myself,
I’m with the voice of nothingness.
Also the melancholy of your unreal words whispering and capturing myself in unshakable net,
I acknowledge there is really no way out,
I can’t escape even through the door,
You got me all trapped, wicked witch,
Tricking me into falling into the dimension of you.
Ensuring me that it was you both in light and dark,
Both in noise and silence,
Both in mind and reality.

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Pendulum of My Wings

I wish I’m a kite, I think I can fly far far away like a bird with my hands as my wings, I hope to divide the breeze like a mad parachute.
The world’s carved in my body and it’s a majestic tattoo on my skin.
I feel calmness in this, remembrance of shooting feeling, like pair of eyes facing the galaxy.
I expand my wings when it is only the sound of the pendulum. I fly a bit when you whisper my name to my neck,
I touch the world like I would to fragile glasses.
I touch my skin like I would to your vulnerable lips.
And I find my body gently shaking the world :
I fly to sense the breeze of the world.
I fly in short moment like that sound of the pendulum,
calm like mad parachute to your vulnerable lips.

Creature

I don’t spare a blink on my run,
Don’t even shed a tear also on my run,
This glass body of mine
Dared to run carelessly.
I’d like to sculpt you,
Drown in your word,
Be you, feel you touch you, treat you gently.
I’m longing to create you.
The only maker of yours-
Yet I keep hammering those fragile bones of yours.
Swearing and spitting on your marble body.
Do I got it all wrong,
Wrongfully thought I’m the most gentle to you.
Did I forget that I should really blink,
Or simply just that you’ve never loved me before.

 

 

Too Old to Cry

She is 58 years old,
And I am 61.
When we meet,
at last we meet,
we were hidden in wrinkles because laughter split every skin on our face.
The time has been too long and we still feel like a teenager.
I imagine her hands must have hold too many grandchildren, I also bet she might already forgotten most of her grandchildren,
‘It would be nice if we were married. You and I.’
She look younger than her actual vessel,
Her regret making her looks the most vulnerable,
Yet she just sit there and smile.
We both staring far far away to the grass field, to the sky that looks fairly horizontal above it, more further, we were looking to the forest where we used to play.
She and I when we have lot more hair than now, when we were even taller than now.
‘I love you,’ I said to her, and the kiss after that felt like the most tender of anything.
In the forest where she and I falling deep to our kiss,
I thought I would be the happiest.
In the forest where she and I feel falling deep into love,
I thought she would be mine.
Yet we are now old,
Being too old,
Even too old to live a bit more longer and she and I…
Not the happiest.

Some Dull Time

What’re you gonna do if you come home and he’s not there.
You’re out he’ll be at home,
You listen when he’s not speaking,
As you close the curtain he turn the light on, whisper it to me as you way of yelling ‘no’ turning me on.
He’s happy while you’re not,
He stoop while you lay,
You both calling God while it’s in both of you,
Kiss while you’re not there,
Love when you’re away,
You meet when you both away :
It was two voices when you knock the door.

That Look of Yours

As I blankly staring at the wall,
I hope you’d somehow end up before my face,
Normally talk about ants and chipotle :
But the fear and truth is the actual cage.
I could make you cry and crawl,
In a frustrated longing to touch my fingers,
But I am far more wiser than that.
I only get to wildy dreaming that I get to remember your shirt,
It remind me when our palm were only a milimetre far.
As you wander in my conscience, I feel a weird attachment while I am actually leaving.

Silence

You present me the wildest lullaby when you touch my lips with yours.

You taste me as if you’re licking a small sip of most precious wine,

As we stopped talking, your palm is up above mine,

When I was there at my phone rehearsal, I was wondering if you could hear nothingness and somehow understand my words.

While I was there at the phone rehearsal, it mesmerized me that you thought there still be word we can exchange.