Maroon Smudged Ink
today something came to me,
a craving for nostalgia perhaps.
i sneak to the hidden room,
marching yet in careful steps,
where i kept all of my love letters towards you,
mixed with just two pieces of yours.
i wanted to say,
how young i was to be fooled about the idea of love.
what made you so special, among all the kinds?
an anomaly, so different than my other lovers;
yet you are the puzzle who fits me whole despite me convinced i am a perfectly arranged piece already.
you are just another, one who left behind the fogs.
i brush the tip of my finger across the dried maroon ink,
some smudged already — vintage et causa the passing time.
the forsaken autumn fleeting in my mind,
of you, whose presence used to stir my heart like the tidal waves.
of the church i built on my bunk bed.
oh the affection i burried down the cemetary,
you loved lurking inside the dusted budapest hotel,
ever like a clerk ghost.
one i visit, when i wanted to reminisce.
i retrieved my hand way long ago,
i have went to the ball and danced with another, a proper fella or two dare i say.
i do not wish to rekindle with a ghost,
one who promise a garden of flowers, yet too cowardly to send me a letter back.
i once missed you so much, like my arcus costae hugging my cardiac.
you let me turn into an infant, oh sometimes i felt anger brimming on top.
you let me turn into an infant, begging for just a peek of you.
“ but you said…. “, oh words are just waves waiting to crash.
was it shame? who embraced you away from my reach?
but i am nothing but serene now,
i have accepted defeat long ago.
especially when you came with your head bowing so low, i thought it would drop to the horses’ feet.
“ you were never a passing wind, “, you said.
“ for you are the beacon. but i am the citizen of the north, you shall not stay for one who isn’t sure of receiving your warmth. “
at that time, we were a decade apart already.
you were nothing but a tale i told to my peer,
one who sounds too much of a fairytale.
alas, you were never once as charming as a royalty.
you are a second-class, the ever so free-spirited poet.
and i, who has to hold my head high to not let the crown fall.
i, who secretly write 3 libraries long for you.
you are never the sole source of the bloom of my heart,
and you are also not the one i reserve my woe and cries.
but it was my friends, one who held me when you yet again travel to another harbors.
one who held my hand,
one who convince me love surrounds me.
one who bandage the wound secondary happened because of you.
while you only said the exact same with your ink, but never your heart.
maybe you never meant to hurt me,
never meant to make me wait,
never meant to keep me up at night,
never meant to burn me.
you never did, you tried. i knew.
i guess i have always been better than you,
leading the country despite the flames.
while you fly to a faraway village.
you never meant a war,
yet i still stand tall with my weapons.
i shook my head,
one said your memories flashes within 7 minutes right after you pass away.
and i probably spent 4 remembering the flame burning so bright,
like icarus who came too close to the sun,
to think about you.
and it is true they say,
one who is hard to forget,
is the one who left you with wonders.
but i don’t even remember your laughter,
and i find myself briefly smile.
you were not a figure i wish to hold grudges upon.
i could bravely admit, you shape me the person i am today.
you just simply aren’t meant to be the one i whisper good night in return before my nights end.
but you, let me keep you in a hidden drawer,
with all my love letters,
like a true proof, for the love i once so bravely declare.
no one would realize, when i reminisce about you;
it is never because i still love you.
but it is because i cup the cheek of the person i was when i’m with you.
i made you special, i let you be special.
the wine came from my basement.
the tangy-yet-sweet aftertaste, came from my grapeyard
now let me tend to the bits if my chores,
think of a sunny day tomorrow,
a cup of tea and a picnic with the people i love.
as i sighed,
i never lost my dignity to you,
but i held them tighter,
and now for the ever so brave me.
now i can’t recall your face and the placement of your moles,
so long, so long, so long.
au revoir.
