mencintai tanpa memiliki.
klasik, ya, apa boleh buat?
aku tak pernah menganggapmu adalah milikku, pun aku adalah milikmu.
namun rasa itu tumbuh di antara kita, tanpa satu pun yang memaksa.
aku tau kau masih memiliki seseorang dalam daftar prioritasmu, terlebih, mungkin dirinya lah yang nomor satu.
tunggu, bukan berarti aku senang dijadikan yang kesekian; lagi-lagi, apa boleh buat?
aku hanya bisa menunggu sampai sang waktu memberiku lelah yang luar biasa hingga rasa sabarku perlahan habis,
karena ku tau perasaanku takkan pernah.

how do you live with a mother whose idea of love is burning down bridges and then burning the ashes? how do you live in her house, constantly awaiting her next episode, staring at your bedroom door and waiting for her to burst through it? you go days without eating because you’re terrified to get out of your room and you hope that this will help you shrink small enough to fit into your childhood hiding spots - all the places she’d never think to look. you cut your wrists, hips, thighs, any parts of your unloved skin that you can reach in hopes it will slow your breathing down before she hears you panicking - she’s already reminded you once today that there is no room for weakness in her house. you smell burning again and get ready to bid farewell to another bridge, another memory, another part of your relationship that you’ll never see again. you’re not as bothered as you should be because in all honesty, there wasn’t really a relationship or a bridge to begin with.

in another universe:
you don’t leave the city.
my hand is still in yours,
it’s 10:40am,
you can't take your eyes off of me while you eat your brunch.
we never have to worry about making it work,
because it just does,
it always has.
and you hold my hand,
and (this time) you don’t let go.

in another universe:
we never meet.
or maybe we do but maybe this time i don’t say yes to the brunch
i listen to my brain instead of my heart and run at the first sign of trouble.
i’ve always been good at that, right?
i hold my breath instead of your hand,
and i don’t let you kiss me after two glasses of wine.
and something
feels off.
but i don’t know what it is, so it’s alright.
and maybe i miss someone,
but (this time) i don’t know who i’m missing.

in this universe:
i felt the shift ever since you left the city.
i called too much and decided this is what love feels like.
isn’t this what love feels like?
you held my hand when i asked you to
and kissed my neck like you might still want me
and maybe you still wanted me
but it wasn’t enough to make it work.
i would’ve made it work,
if you asked.
i cried on the car while i listened to our songs that aren’t even our songs because i never showed them to you,
but i don’t care
because you’ll never hear them now.
i think about us in the city
and i think about us at our first brunch
and i think about all the times you said:
baby
we can make it
you and me.
and i wonder if maybe
we still could.
but it’s different now because
in this universe you let go and in this universe i wasn’t enough and in this universe i know who i’m missing and he’s exactly 32 minutes away if there’s no traffic.
and maybe in this universe we don’t end up together,
but maybe (this time) we’re not supposed to.

"percayalah kita hanya ujian bagi diri masing-masing. tuhan hanya ingin tahu kita lebih mencintai penciptanya atau ciptaannya"

"hanya ujian?  sekali pun aku tidak pernah melihatmu sebagai ujian"

"... maaf"

you think any of it matters? i laugh in the face of every new day as soon as the moon disappears and the sun tries to take its place. i chew on the skin around my jagged fingernails and try not to scream at everyone that passes me by. because what’s the point of any of it? what’s the point of the violet bruises, the cathedrals, the retching and the gift boxes and the way her eyes light up when she looks at his face? it isn’t going to save me, it’s not going to save you either. my body aches and it’s brimming with repressed screams in every colour and i want to tell everybody that loving me didn’t help me, not even a bit.

i run with demons. i sit at the table with lucifer and he tells me his secrets. we sip cyanide from crystal goblets and ignore the blood dripping from each other’s mouths. it creates rivers beneath our feet. he says that i am his favourite. when he’s feeling daring he takes me to church for the hell of it, just to turn heads. that was when i first met you. you wore your sunday best and i wore mine and when your mother caught you staring she murmured a prayer. you had an ethereal glow about you and i found myself coughing up holy water hours after the encounter had passed. you’re terrifying. angels would tear their own wings out for you. they would **** themselves to walk the earth. you terrify me because up until the moment we met, i was happy with being a monster. i didn’t mind the flames, the anguish, the bullets that cascaded down on me, the rot. but then i got a taste for the figs that grow on your tree and i found that i would be willing to catch an angel and rip out its wings just so i could give them to you. i would build you a cathedral and i’d read your book, learn your hymns, step into the light just so i’d never have to tear my eyes away from yours ever again.

these days i am so full of anguish
he looks at me
it hurts
i walk home in the pouring rain because i am a cliche and want to feel something different
anything at all
these days i take the things that i love the most and tear them apart
i create something entirely unrecognisable
everything is too real
it hurts