Showing posts with label Lost. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lost. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Si Buta yang Sok Tahu

Definisi sok itu aku
Pura-pura menjadi
Melupa padahal merindu
Jika ini tentang kita
Kamu sok buta
Menerawang walau jelas

Lihat!
Bahkan karang pun menipis
tertampar dera ombak
Bukan sok lemah,
Tapi semua orang tau
hati metafora lebih mudah
teracuni dari hati biologis

Perhatikan!
Sakit patah tulang pun
Tak bisa menyamai sakit darimu
Bukan sok kuat,
Terpikir relakan satu rusuk
Trak! Gadai sakit
Demi sesosok kesempurnaan

Tapi puisi ini pendek
Sependek penggaris 5 senti
Bukan sok kalkulatif,
Di kali tambah kurang bagi pun
Angka kita tak sama
Kenapa kita paksa naik kelas
Toh buta pun nyaman

The intended vibe to read this to:
https://soundcloud.com/trapmusic/urban-cone-come-back-to-me-ft

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Why I Return

He was sitting in the corner by the window, sipping a small cup of Cappuccino. A solemness washes over his eyes. It made the scene looked like a ceremony, an act of worship or something. His quietness fills the space around him, thickening the air, slowing time and condensing space.

The girl in the table across him has been eyeing him. She did not smile, nor giggle like the typical girl would. She looked at him with a genuine curiosity, her mind searched for imaginary reasons to why a man like that would stare so longingly to a line of trees in the distance.

Like a sudden jolt of electricity, a waiter tripped on a piece of napkin I dropped and spilled a half drank latte all over the girl's table. Her small note book is now drenched in the caffeinated liquid. In shock she stood up, and shot a bewildered look that does not match her sweet floral dress. The waiter's quick apology sent her slowly, but forgivingly back to her seat.

I did not want to ruin her book, believe me, it was not my intention. I just wanted to see if the guy break his melancholic gaze and trade it in for a more beautiful view. A view that would, maybe, lighten his heart just a touch. I mean, come on, who wouldn't be drawn in by her brown curls, the way they bounced softly as she tried to clean up the mess on her table. The way her lips curved into a weak smile as she told the waiter not to worry. The way her fingers traced back into her note book, just to check if there's not a letter washed away.

He was not distracted when the waiter lost his balance, nor did he gain an interest at the scene I arranged. However, he did take a quick glance at the girl who is now writing on a damp, coffee soaked book. His gaze was different, though. The icy, solemn gaze, melted into a shy observation. He stole another look or two, then a smile broke through the quietness of his morning. It was his first smile in weeks.

I thought he saw me. For a second prior to that smile, I thought our eyes had met. But, who am I kidding, I know he couldn't possibly see me. He has been trying to,  to no avail, every single day. That's why he sat on that table today, trying to remember the last conversation we shared before life decided to part ways from my body.

Then, from the heaviness of his heart, he rose from his seat and made his way towards the Girl. But before he reached her table, he knelt and took the napkin that began this whole situation. I swear I heard him muttered something lightly, but I couldn't make out the words. When he reached the Girl's table, he paused for what seemed like an intense 3 second for the Girl. She looked up slowly as he said, "You reminded me of someone who used to share a cup of coffee with me.." he cut the sentence with a chuckle, "but your hair is much nicer." With an air of triumph, he walked away as he threw the napkin right through my face, down to my palms and down to the floor where I stood.

At that moment, I know he is going to be fine without me.



---

Writer's note: I wrote this while listening to Warm Water by Banks.
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Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Sax and Scat



"Kalau begini caranya, kapan saya bisa melupakan kamu?" dia berbisik, menyampaikan pesan ke angin dibalik jendela basah mobilnya.

Setiap kali langit jakarta bergemuruh membawa rintikan hujan, Reza hanya bisa mendengus kesal, menjatuhkan bahunya satu centi lebih dekat dengan tanah. Kelipan lampu-lampu jalanan yang tercermin di aspal basah membawanya ke masa itu.

Dulu, hujan dimalam hari adalah waktu-waktu ternyaman baginya. Dengan tenang, lelaki ini akan menyalakan CD jazz favoritnya, sambil menyenandungkan not-not miring buatannya sendiri. Seakan ia pemain saxaphone handal. Wanita cantik disampingnya akan ikut bernyanyi, "babe, it's scat" gumamnya yakin. Cuaca seperti ini membuat mereka terlihat seperti pasangan yang paling harmonis. Saling beradu melodi, saut menyaut irama.

"Keterlaluan kamu, Rez.." keluh wanita itu suatu malam. "Aku sudah menunggumu selama 3 tahun, ternyata mimpi naifmu masih saja kau kejar." Di bawah rona senja, Reza baru saja mengutarakan pikirannya yang selama ini ia pendam. Ia tahu, sudah lama ia menjanjikan pernikahan. Ia berjanji, setidaknya pada dirinya sendiri, bahwa di malam pertama ia mendapatkan tawaran bermain saxaphone di cafe manapun, ia akan melamar Dilla. Tapi, setelah 3 tahun tanpa pembahasan tentang pernikahan, Dilla lelah menunggu.

"Kau urus saja hatimu, Rez. Aku akan mengurus hatiku sendiri." Itu kata-kata terakhirnya. Tanpa pesan sampai jumpa, tanpa tengokan kebelakang. Ia berjalan keluar dari restoran, rambutnya yang panjang berkibas ke kiri dan kekanan. Reza yakin, Dilla tidak menangis malam itu. Mereka dua orang dewasa, telah mengenal pahitnya patah hati. Keputusan ini pun bisa diprediksikan sejak awal hubungan mereka. Siapa yang harus terkejut?

Nyatanya, 3 tahun kemudian, di tengah malam gerimis kota jakarta. Reza terkejut. Ini malam pertamanya bermain saxaphone di sebuah cafe kecil. Seharusnya ia menikmati kesempatan ini. Seharusnya ia bermain saxaphone dengan segenap kuatnya. Seharusnya ia meniupkan melodi-melodi miring yang selama ini hanya dimainkan untuk satu pasang telinga. Seharusnya ia tidak berhenti bermain saat bayangan Dilla muncul lagi di pikirannya.

Mungkin dia lah yang seharusnya Reza perjuangkan. Bukan musiknya, bukan impiannya. Namun kebahagiaan Dilla, hidup bersama Dilla. Ah, kini semuanya tinggal penyesalan. Reza menyalakan mesin mobilnya, dan bersiap keluar dari parkiran.

Tuk tuk tuk.. Ketukan halus terdengar dari jendelanya. "Kamu lupa mengambil bayaranmu.." suara lembut itu teredam lagu rock di radio. Reza menurunkan kaca jendelanya dan meminta wanita itu untuk mengulang kata-katanya. Namun, jari-jari lentik itu hanya menyodorkan sebuah amplop putih kearahnya. Cincin pernikahan di jari manisnya.

"Oh, minggu depan saja.. saya tidak bermain bagus malam ini," kata Reza lugas. Namun wanita itu telah berbalik arah, masuk kembali ke cafenya. Amplop itu tergeletak tenang di pangkuan Reza. Diatasnya tertulis, '3 Tahun' dengan guratan pena yang cukup familiar.

Reza menengok kebelakang. Wanita itu berjalan tegap menuju cafenya, rambut panjangnya berkibas ke kiri dan kekanan. Tangan berhiaskan cicin pernikahan itu mematikan lampu 'open' lalu mengunci pintu dimasuk dibelakangnya.

Mereka pikir, sebuah hubungan bisa berakhir dengan kata-kata, dengan persetujuan dua belah pihak. Tapi siapa yang harus terkejut, saat hati mengingat kembali rasa yang lama ia rindukan?

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

For Jamie: If I Was Brave Enough

In the library, listening to my head spelling out the things i want to say to you. Things that i could never put in my mouth. Things that maybe you may never hear, unless i decided to hell with the strained peace between us, and just scream it in your face.

I would scream because words cannot contain the amount of pain it cost me to pull this out of my heart. I would scream because you will not understand the amount of energy it took me to carry the message for the whole three years now. I would scream because the man inside of me had decided to show its true color.

That he is afraid. That he is ashamed. But to appear just a little braver than the coward he really is, he chose to yell it off. For fear of the quiver in his voice, the tears that would come out, the vulnerability that would show and the look that you would have in your eyes.

Then all the same, i would cry, i would cry today in your arms. Because for three years i've been the strong man for you. Leaving my wounds in the corner to rot, hugging you tight as i whisper our prayer to sleep. For this one day, the third year of our son's death, i would show you that a chunk of my heart was ripped out too, and that there was no man so strong he could be your anchor.


-- Read this for happy ending, or leave a comment now --


In the end, she hugged me and said in the calmest tone i have every hear you speak, "Our strength does not come from horses or chariots, but from God alone. You are not my anchor, but you are certainly the main sail of my ship. I love you. So much."