Goodbye Felicia

Woken up to empty side against the morning sun
as she feels the wind of May blowing through the window she forgot to close last night.
A glass of beer from yesterday, if not days ago, still on the table beside her bed.
No wonder you keep telling her lazy and slouchy.
Grabs her phone.
Still no text, no call.
Maybe this time she really have to give up.
Move out and move on.

No tears left to cry.
She already dried it out since 3 days ago.
Her chest is full with words she wants to yell to you.
and a plan to do any violence act to you, if possible.

How she hates being a hopeless romantic,

if she never fit in a love story.

How she hates being locked away without a proper goodbye.
But hey, it's written in her name anyway.
Felicia, the girl everyone says goodbye to.
How she hates making a new start,
when she is not even sure if she has reached the ending.

Felicia got packs of cigarette now, all for her own
no longer need your smoke to choke her up.
You make a call at 3 A.M just to make sure she knows you still awake.
Guess what?
She doesn't care anymore.

Obrolan Sore Seru Ibu

“Bu Agus sudah 3 bulan tidak datang arisan.”
“Anaknya sedang sakit.”
“Sakit apa? Lama sekali sampai 3 bulan.”
“Bukan anaknya. Suaminya …”
“Pak Agus sakit?”
“Ehh, bukan begitu. Suami Bu Agus sepertinya sedang terlibat kasus. Tempo hari aku lihat ada polisi datang ke rumahnya.”
“Lho, polisi itu bukannya menantu Bu Agus?”
“Bu Agus memang punya menantu polisi, tapi bukan yang itu. Aku yakin.”
“Mama aku mau minum susu.”, seorang balita merengek pada ibunya. Menyela obrolan sore si ibu dengan ibu-ibu komplek lainnya.

Remembering February

She has a story
of the month, February
She has a memory
every time she remembers,
she feels sorry

For the love that turned into anger and fight ,
the laugh that turned into tears and cries,
the trust that turned into pain and scars

The month of love, they say
but she lost one that day
The mistake she never meant to make
the risk she never ready to take

Days go by
People change
Everything change
But her memory of February remains the same

Past

How can't I not think about the past,
if all I want to forget
is still settling
safe and sound in my subconscious
creeps into sweet nightmares
every night in my sleep?

How can't I not look to the past ,
where everything I long to be stuck in there?
The love, the laugh,
the joy, the glory.

How can't I not go to the past ,
where it's the only place I can go
when there is nobody,
as I wake up in the middle of the night
feeling sad , lonely , and desperately need somebody to talk to?

How can't I not reach the past ,
where it's the only place I can reach
when everyone here and now
is so close yet so far away
that everything I have,
my eyes, my hands, my voice,
are not enough even just to touch them ?