OSL:BHYN

Perempuan itu mudah dibaca. Lelakipun mencari tantangan dalam kemudahan yang dimunculkan. Simpang siur kenyataan ditolak mentah. Ah, lucu ya perjenisan ini. Titik berat bergeser ke axis yang rendah. Bersiul sepertinya. Pola pikir diaduk-aduk sampai semrawut. Diikat sangat kencang hingga menimbulkan kerut-kerut seperti nenek keriput. Perempuan lantas marah karena Lelaki bermain dadu terlalu lama. Judi kecil itu sama bahayanya. Kriminal - kriminal neuron memang suka menghasut, betul tidak? Lelaki terlalu doyan jajan keluyuran dan foyaan. Eh, perempuannya sudah tidak sabaran   "Apa Aku ini kurang jelas? Konten sudah singkat, padat, dan komunikatif, Mas. Kok kamu masih kekurangan saja." Lelaki hanya bisa pasang wajah kaku seperti belacu setrikaan yang dilapisi cairan aci. Lelaki mencoba berpikir-pikir apakah tindak-tanduknya tadi salah ataupun kurang benar. Lelaki duduk lalu berdiri, lalu berjongkok. lalu berlari. Luculah pokoknya.  Perempuan yang sudah cenut gigi ha

Do you remember when I told you that a person's eyes speak a lot and then you asked me today to look you in the eyes and tell you what I saw. Tell  me, how do I tell you what I saw the love in them before you could even see it when you stared back at me. 

I am heading straight to the castle. 

I just do not want to. Its getting hurts more each day. The "how if" question haunt me when I remembering you, Hubby. Imho, A good man will never makes his lady asking too much, A good man will never let his lady feels like she's the bitchy one. I know its a bit hyperbolic but this is what I am really feels in current day. Lucky is never figured the failed one before. It would be hard to be fixed. Easily forgiven but hard to heal the wound. This is what I could describe. The peanut in a nutcracker. Jiya. But I wish happiness always around you; You'll got all the blessing; but I am not think about us anymore. You seems happy when you far away from me.  Sleep well, I do not remember how to spell I love you. 

If I date you. I see my self marrying you, nor just your body, either your soul. I see my self building with you. I see my self growing with you. I don't date to just past time. I am dating you because i want you for the rest of my life.

This leftover space, just on the edge of the page where I said I could hardly breathe anymore is where you’d write about that one night we went sightseeing on our bounching date and you act really weird and starts saying anything you could said. Saying something about stars and forever and I couldn’t hear you over the loud rumble of the music and the chatter of people, but I knew you said something about eternity, because in the corner of my eye I was starting at an elderly couple and it made my heart dissolve into a million little pieces and carried throughout my veins until every inch of my body was covered in what I could only assume was love and I don’t know how you did it, but somehow you did. Just to the left where I pasted in a photograph of us on a giant Boteva wheel last autumn is where you’d write about the day we spent the entire night on the beach and you plucked falling stars from the sky and fashioned me a crown and told me I was your queen. Slipped your fing

1. I hope the stars in your stars are still alive. 2. I hope your chest hurts when you think of me at night. 3. I really hoping this to end with our gigantic happiness. 4. So, what else did you expect? 5. I kept look out for you everytime that you went out just to make sure that you’ll be alright (even you didn’t noticed at all) 6. “Don’t make me feels this stupidness alone again” –my favorite heart’s whisper. 7. I swallowed every one of your tiny tales, they went down like the shrads of the glass. And I smiled with blood on my teeth. Please imagine it when you read this. 8. Was it me or was it the timing? –no answer. 9. If you were think about it, all of my best me-moerds of you kinda my favorite daydreams. ( Can I just hugs you right now?) 10. Your inside skin hand always seemed to be rosy tomatoes. Sooooo reeeed. Conclusion: Loving you is the sweetest form of self destruction I could find. You gives me Mandragora instead bunch of flowers. But, which favo

She is the first spring day after the longest winter. The warmth of her smile is like the warmth of the sun on your skin, a feeling you almost forgot about. A clear blue sky like the way she clears your consciusness, she is calm and refreshing. She is the light at the end of the tunnel, delicate like sunflowers petal, presistent and reaches towards the sun. She is an everyday grace we sometimes forget to say thanks to. She is an autumn day filled with bumpy warm sweater, hot chocolate, salty poetry and combats ugg boots pair. She laughs so hard then the leaves fall off the trees and the orange in them is reminiscent of her hair. She’s not quite the sun but not quite to the moon either. She’s not quite a summer but not quite to winter either. She’s original and comfortin, warm flames in the fire pit, a new beginning, new school supply shopping, pumpkin picking apple cider friend. \\ He is the biggest snowstorm of the winter, making everything glitter and sparkle.

Honey,  Summer all the way. The grunge waves turn into significant heartbeats. Now, am listening to our lovely del rey goddess. From a red hair change into all the beauty queen stuff. Hang this up, so it won't blow. Thats the way I feel for you. Am I lost for the fire? Baby, if you wanna choose anylife, just be a freak like me do.  Bargaining to the huge atomic transmitter. Such a hoe. Poetry can help you a little, so don't you even worries. To breath like a freak. Like we do. 

" ...only worth living if somebody loving you" 

But what if the princess was in the tower  because   she was the dragon? Like the queen gives birth and oops it’s this adorable little scaley lizard with tiny wings that she can never quite seem to fold right None of the King’s advisors or doctors can explain it, no one can remember anyone who might have cursed the royal family, plus sire she’s clearly yours still I mean look at those eyes They just kind of accept it and keep her in a tower so no one tries to slay her The queen or castle servants reading bedtime stories to the toddler princess, who’s made a nest of her favorite toys and some jewelery she stole off her mother, and when she laughs little puffs of smoke come out of her mouth The king being so proud when she flies across the room for the first time And once the princess comes of age, confused knights breaking into the tower to find a twenty foot long dragon sitting at the vanity getting her horns polished by her handmaidens. 

Mungkin, kita ini yang belum menemukan bidadari dunia akhirat masing - masing.

Mari kita tinjau ulang aku butuh kamu kamu butuh aku kita saling membutuhkan atau sudah tidak butuh, butuh - butuhan?

Q: What is the philosophy behind "Wanita Kering" ? A: We are alone but ain't lonely, We are dry but ain't thirsty.

When months are passing by like seconds, and in my hand your hand is placed, a smile crosses your face, a simple touch can still make my heart race. When I can see my soul in your eyes, and you see your soul in mine, we realize that a love so deep can and there is no lies inside it, where our only tears shed were happy tears we've cried. I love you as much now as I ever did before. If possible, I may even love you more. More and more. all starting from a feeling we didn't ignore, a feeling of connection we chose to explore. I don't know what it is that you saw in me, what I saw in you was the dopest happiness that can ever be, even more so on the day when you and I became "We." I can still smile and say with love from the deepest heart.  Ps: to be honest, I dont even remember our anniversary day jajaja. Maybe we dont have one. But its okay, Let me choose when, how about September 10th? I loved the date! i dont get why,

Nanti kalau Mas jauh, akunya kangen terus gimana.

Amas. I wish I was your first love. Ever.

Yes, they will scribble you in the depth of every corner, they will bury you deep inside their bones, keep your safer than their souls, but wilder than their strands of hair. Yes, you will be a subject that’ll keep them awake for hours at night and make their hearts addicted to your breath. But what did they say about the writers when you leave? It’s nothing special honey, they’ll still immortalise you, bury you in words, squeeze their hearts out, try to sleep in between wiping out memories and crashing down their dreams; try to scratch you away, but you’ll be a red, itching boil for a long, long time and a scar for eternity.  They will empty themselves out in vessels of poetry they’ll shape according to the pieces of you you’ve left in them, piercing like pieces of broken glass. One fine day, they’ll scoop you out and place you carefully on the shelf, among other things that are a little rusty in their gray matter, but never really gone.

Am not a writer at all, really.