Yang Ditemukan, Yang Menemukan


Ada ruang hatiku yang kau temukan
Sempat aku lupakan kini kau sentuh Aku bukan jatuh cinta namun aku jatuh hati

Dia memahami bahasa kalbuku, dia yang mampu melukis rindu meskipun terkadang menyisa hanya pilu dan sendu. Dia yang memikatku dengan mata hatinya, menafsir dunia dalam bingkainya, dia yang mengikatku dengan tanyanya dari kesan yang tercerap jiwa. Yang lantas aku tak menahu harus seperti apa dan menjadi apa hingga aku hanya pasrah menanti alur sembari meyakini yang tersurat tidak mungkin memungkiri. ‘Jangan cepat berlalu, sebelum aku menyelesaikannya dalam cerita, tetaplah disana! Dan aku rela terbawa angan untuk sementara.”

Ku terpikat pada tuturmu, aku tersihir jiwamu
Terkagum pada pandangmu, caramu melihat dunia
Kuharap kau tahu bahwa ku terinspirasi hatimu
Ku tak harus memilikimu, tapi bolehkah ku selalu di dekatmu?

Semuanya bermula, dan aku ingin merangkainya dalam kata tentang kita. Akan kupastikan tidak akan terlewat yang membuatku terpana karena menyebabkan mengapa yang kini aku rasa dan membuatmu berbeda. Dan aku ingin kau tahu pada saatnya nanti, entah melalui waktu atau tersampaikan dalam diamnya rindu, pendarmu yang begitu menghangatkan, aku tertawan impresi tentangmu.“Terima kasih untuk menemukanku, untuk pernah hadir dan sepintas menyapaku! Aku mencintaimu, seadanya kamu, bukan selebihmu.”

Katanya cinta, memang banyak bentuknya
Ku tahu pasti sungguh aku jatuh hati


Song of Solitude (6)

She wasn’t sorry. She was meant for glory.

There’s no make believing
The sound of the wings
Of the flight

, of a dove

“I have been crafting stories of not meant to be, but it is so deceitfully heartwarming. We fall off steps the same gravity, but we hover different skies. I never thought this could be painful, but so painfully exalting. “ She flustered by the thought of enterprising and of expanding, the possibilities were endless but her brazenness so firmly grounded; like it was where it was supposedly cultivated but she knew full well it was to no avail because at last their taken roads were en route to the different brinks: she was of low, he was of high.

She traveled backwards memories, if she were given a chance, if there was anything that could reassure her, she could tell without slightest hint of hesitation. But it could turn upside down, “Why do I have to involve myself in the game if I’m not even qualified for it. We are both of the same moral compass, but of different intensity, quite significantly.” She throwed up the sponge at last, “Juliet is just plain gullible, and Romeo is only taking her love for granted, he knew she could turn him into a romantic hero.” She continued rewinding the scenes, for insofar as her scattered brain always failed to count, had been of great nursery ryhmes. She acted out a foil to his being a statue, she chose to believe to have been trapped in his luminous nobility.

At least, she could nail an “Ozymandiaz” dignity and wore proud her tranquil composure as she refused to have been carried into his bandwagon, “I’m not drown, if seemingly so, I can’t swim at the first place and I’m a coward.” She abhorred from her possible deteriorated ends, if entitled to account for her adjourning. In remembrance, she found herself but left frantic.

Song of Solitude (4)

If it’s real what I’m feeling
There’s no make believing


As if time being his unusual garrulous self, to speculate, to make her played with her prejudices, so she conjectured he could be off the realm of his whimsical non sense, his played things sensical. He could be in both worlds if it needed be, but he probably went offbeat. It went the reverse to her, now that she realized had been going absurd, she air confidence it supposedly juxtaposed at last.

The thought of many typicals excited her the least, if it meant it would be an abrasive truth, she wasn’t capable of handling the facts revealed itself forthright, in a manner demeaning her had been so compliant devotion towards her heart abound. It was contemptuous for gaining, losing was last entranced her mind. But what could she have done if the destiny displeased of the end? She air frighten but trust her modest yet mean-spirited inner voices.

You could be all the bets, but you stand way aloof, it is like I’m watching myself from afar. It is so polar we are, but so similar.” She reminisced him once played his ace, now it was world-weary, even not per se lost his grace but too cautioned of losing to pretense, to what seemingly resemble in a glimpse. “I don’t believe in forever, everything is evolving, but in you, at least it adds colour. It may stay solid, or by the time sordid.”

She lost counting, not because of bewildered but impassioned as her nuanced mind nitpicked his holy inclination. It left her mentally thunderstruck. How long could a person be so insistently distant himself from spelling the language of profanity? Was his mind too afraid of making a slip? She believed, it was just happen to be bound, but it seemed to her, his obsequious won over, if he ever bent himself, she wouldn’t allow even when she herself wondered.