no body

i am No Body.

i can be Any Thing i want to be.

what am i to you, though?

nobody?

or merely a body.

the poem

the poem should’ve been written down on a piece of paper,

or crafted in a piece of dance.

it’s been teasing two minds.

should’ve hold hands and made it all possible.

it’s been felt.

all this time invisible, yet vividly felt.

immortalized in each blood cell of the poets.

can’t ever tell nobody what beauty really is.

no evidence.

it just won’t make any sense, the poem.

and they could’ve lasted forever.

tomorrow, perhaps

you are the fire that burns

inside the crying flute

i need to believe in rebirth

to be able to touch you

.

behind this satin curtain far from the crowd, i see

your silhouette dance the night away

.

your eyes, i can’t see

are they flickering with anger

shining while mouth obliviously chanting

are they weeping with agony

.

or staring at the silver stars

listening to the one that’s tempting you with its careless laughter

like when life was young

what’s now surreal was actually real

.

there’s no such thing as time machine

but there should be a second chance

like tomorrow

perhaps, we will have tomorrow

the shrine is empty

John William Waterhouse: The Shrine - 1895

the shrine is empty!

my lord has taken all the reasons away with him.

tears fall, when i see love is not a possession.

fall on my knees, when i see he no longer gives me strength.

i close my eyes and wait…

perhaps he will come back.

i get up and dance without rhythm…

perhaps he will come back.

(to fix the broken things)

i dance and, each turn i take paints one old color back.

each of my heartbeat and footstep whisper the old rhythm back.

come back, my lord!

haven’t i breathed life back into this shrine for you?

i get up and dance.

i close my eyes and wait.

fall on my knees when i see, he no longer gives me strength.

tears fall when i see, love is not a possession.

return

what do i own

who do i owe

when do i exist

of what do i consist

why does the clock stop ticking when i’m happy

resume when i feel lonely

what is love and what does it love

does it need a reason to be alive

dance is, to return

to something bigger than

just a reason

leia

you know what, leia…

my best friend has made me love you

long before you snuggled inside her tummy

secretly, i did want you to look like me

and even dance like i do

how was it like, leia, to be loved by hands that stroke you gently

voice that sang to you softly

soul that whispered prayers for you cos you were her baby

your mom has made me love you

since you were a dream in the process of coming true

do you remember me?

she wanted you to be a light bearer,

like me

bring that light and forever shine down on her

leia

all of her dreams come true,

all of her dreams come true

high heels

I don’t feel like

putting on those high heels by myself today

Instead, I

am searching for your hands

Your eyes that scrutinize the shape of my feet

Up to my legs

And rest in my eyes

I don’t know why you spark

Or why your smile so soothing and

warm

But your hands that escort those high heels to my feet

Rub and

tingle my skin gently

And you got me shiver in ecstasy

My hair follicle beam

Never ever before in my life

have I felt so

beautiful

A high heel lifted up in the air

I show you how much I

love you

i swing closer

For CafeWriting’s May/June Project:

I can’t bear my longing for the sun

Let me sleep the night away

Let me bathe in the starlight

Before I sleep the night away

Starlight puffs my dream come true

.

Time shifts closer to the moment

I swing closer to where you are

And heart will beat faster

And each second tick slower

Every song flow me in the air

Every good sign throw me down

I die and revive with anticipation

Turning my face away from the black sky

I can’t bear my longing for the sun

I want to wake up

Swinging closer to where you are

l.o.v.e

these fingers on your skin

and i begin to look closer

into your eyes

i can’t see anything

but feel everything

if there is such thing as religion

i believe it is love

moonless

i look at you today

and i see something different

your face

turns somehow sepia

lacked luminosity

leaves only beauty on matte

sculpted on a piece of sorrow

maybe nights have been moonless

and you’ve been waiting indefinitely

in the dark

catching pieces of broken self

gluing them back so the wound

won’t be gaping too wide

to hang on til the day comes

(just in case)

you’ve been clogging the pores of your skin

trying to stop your light from leaking more

leaving you with less and less

and i hear you sing a happy song

in a trembling voice

you’re missing him

and i’m missing you