junellure

[junellure]

Bila kembali teringat musim hujan yang lembut,

Air mengusap pipiku dengan kelembutan mengalir.

Basah menghujam ke tubuh yang terbenam dalam basah,

Sepeda motorku mengantarkanku pulang dari perjalanan.

Pada waktu gelap, saat fajar masih terlelap,

Kegelapan menyelimutiku, gemetar tubuhku terasa.

Nafas terhela dalam keheningan yang menyergap,

Klakson mengiringi jejak langkah yang tak pasti.

Pada hari itu, rahasiaku menetes dalam senyap,

Tak seorang tahu, tak seorang bertanya pun.

Mataku merah, dipengaruhi oleh hujan yang turun,

Tak seorang tahu, air mata tersembunyi dalamnya.

Aku menangisi sosok yang tertawa dalam kebahagiaan,

Saat aku terhempas ke dalam jurang kegelapan.

Kau menjadi beban derita yang tak berujung,

Pada hari itu, aku bersumpah melupakanmu.

Kini, tak berarti lagi kehadiranmu yang rapuh,

Eksistensimu hanya jadi bayangan terlupakan.

Aku miliki dalam diriku, hidup tanpamu,

Pada hari itu, kutemukan kekuatan bertahan di dalam diri.

[junellure]

Within each farewell, a wondrous encounter awaits, a prologue to a tale, be it of triumph or woe. Often, precious hours are squandered, consumed by loathing for the interlocutor, heedless of the untold narratives once entwined. Exhaled breaths and heartfelt smiles, languish in futility, usurped by an unrelenting disquiet, gnawing upon the recesses of the mind. Nevertheless, departure marks not the finale, but rather the commencement of an unforeseen odyssey. Embrace its virtues, traverse beyond stagnation's grasp. One day, our journey shall grace my recollections, an exquisite keepsake. The familiarity of your touch shall gradually dissipate into the realms of oblivion, and perchance, your very existence will relinquish its significance. When that juncture manifests, rest assured, I shall quell the anguish that impales my heart.

06062023

[junellure]

I find myself increasingly cognizant that, from your vantage point, my existence is but a fleeting apparition. In this realm, I am the sole dreamer, clinging to every subtle gesture as a hint of what lies ahead, acknowledging my role as a mere supporting player. This recurring error persists, as yearning for you morphs into an addiction that defies cessation. I yearn for the lullaby of your nocturnal breaths over the phone, I yearn for every message sent in my absence, and I yearn for the recognition of my emotions, if only in passing, during our chance encounters. Since our initial encounter, I hold no claim to possess you. Loving you proved a futile game, it seems.

[junellure]

An Unsent Letter.

The enchantment I feel gazing into your resplendent eyes surpasses the allure of a rainbow gracing a clear sky in the dusk, after a gentle shower. It surpasses the enthrallment evoked by a singer, her mellifluous voice captivating audiences. Even the mere existence of your being, in my perception, outshines the delicate petals of marigolds. Once, conversing with you held no significance, for I guarded my emotions and buried them deep within, allowing time to crush their essence. I strived to forget that you consumed my thoughts entirely. Yet, here I stand, with a heart that still beats solely for you, a mind incessantly disrupted by your presence, and every breath I take becomes a tumultuous symphony when your image occupies my thoughts. It's maddening, truth be told. I yearn to escape this predicament. The denial I clung to, my failure to acknowledge it for days, which unwittingly extended into weeks, and now months, has tormented me and constricted my chest. The likelihood of our encounter remains an unattainable impossibility, hence why I pen this letter. To adore you is a fallacy, and to long for you is a wretchedness I am powerless to quell.

281022.

[junellure]

Does he even exist?

He was a figment of our longing, a phantom we yearned for, but who never breathed in reality's embrace. Amidst the mundane crowd, I paint him with hues of uniqueness when love seizes my heart. It feels as if I mourn a loss, for the extraordinary soul who could have partnered with me to manifest something genuine is but an ethereal specter. He resides solely within my musings, a creation of my thoughts and dreams. I suspect his memory shall linger, cherished and mourned, far beyond his current presence. Amidst my search for a sanctuary to safeguard his remembrance, I instead fashion an idyllic portrait of him within the corridors of my mind and in the realms of yesteryears. Their perfection eludes me, forever out of reach. Only I, and the figment born of my imagination, endure in perpetual contemplation. When I gaze upon the one I once loved, now unrecognizable, transformed into a stranger, I ponder whether this change be their true nature or a facade they wore when they first crossed my path. Now that I grasp the absence of the person I fell for, I comprehend that longing is my sole option, for they can never be reclaimed.

181122.