Toast, Milk and A Poem

Kau pergi terlalu lama,
Zaman sudah berganti, langit pun telah lupa membiru.
Entah merah memerah atau abu mengabu,
Berubah ia sejak kau jadi bayang gerhana.

Entahlah,

Kemana saja?
Surat-surat tak terkirim ini telah menumpuk usang,
Pak Pos bilang rumah mu tergerogoti rayap,
Karena besarnya tiada tara tanpa adanya manusia.
Jadi dia bawa kembali padaku, agar tidak pula dimakan rayap.

Barangkali nanti sampai,
Barangkali kau mampir.

Jadi kusapa semesta agar ia buatkan rasi bintang untukmu,
Jika memang kau tak temukan jalan pulang.
Atau untuk sekedar kau baca pesanku,
Dari Pak Pos yang menjelma sebagai bintang-bintang.

Namun tidak sampai pula pesanku,
Namun tidak jua kau hampiri aku.

Tinta pena ini telah kering dan kupeluk kertasnya yang usang,
agar dekat padaku cita-cita yang belum sampai.
Dan biarlah nanti aku sampaikan sendiri,
ratusan pesan yang tak Pak Pos sampaikan padamu.

Is the world still too heavy to put on your back?
Are you still the fly that trapped in the web?
Are these lines still reminds you with always that you used to play?

Hey,
How is the tune going on?
Do you still pluck the chords and turned into a maestro like you wished you were?

And,
Was I asking you too much questions,
Until the lines we sewn sprawled and the strings broke?

Those whys, those whats,
Those always we wasted,
Have they pixelated into stardusts, sinked into the outer space?

Until the sound of the melody unheard?

Here lies the rhetorical I wish they never have the answer,
and let it all come back again like it always have been.




Sasha, 2 September 2019.
Having unstable hormonal state and listening to Always -Panic! at The Disco.

Shoutout to the illustrator @yvidhiatama thousand thumbs up to you

I'd like to see you grow,
While the rain pours
and tears the ground apart.

With the wind and the hurricane,
That took your every petals away.
But I hope you still there,
Standing tall with your stem full of torn,
The picturesque of your strength.

Regardless the seed you have to bloom,
In the drought of a waterless land,
Despite the chirping of the birds that thought you are dead,
I hope you still bloom with your moon river dream;
You and your little green leaf that could paint the whole town,
Create a rainbow from the soil.

Dear little rose,
I won't burn you out of my scorching light,
So let me nourish you from apart,
And warm your way to the sky.


Sasha, 1 September 2019.
Masih berpikir buat portfolio.

Shoutout to the illustrator @yvidhiatama thousand thumbs up to you and lots of candies