what else is there to talk about

what else is there to talk about?

i already tasted the world without us. looking up, i saw the sweetness is gone and is replaced with the image of me suckling in death, shouting curses and poetry like a drunk man on a friday evening.

nobody decided to change our chat nicknames as if we can pretend that nothing happened, but the moment you said “i’ll just hangout with you and your friends sometimes”, i tried to wash away the hope of you and me, together in one novel.

so i left the pen uncapped and i promised myself i won’t write about you anymore.

— eragabrinez

 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

in the absence of your skin

in the absence of your skin,
i discovered yet another touch
hiding along the stars in the cloudless skies
and whispering softly to my ears
like quiet noise filling up my room
when everyone’s asleep.
i, too oblivious about the feeling,
continued to seek for your warmth — the longer i
wait, the faster it turned cold —
but i still reach for it ’till my fingers froze,
’till what’s left in me was your name;
i’ve completely forgotten what’s mine.

i knew i had to be someone else
than be obsessed with our history,
so i opened my eyes
and tried to remember who i am.
along the way, i ran away from the bullets
and fought against the tears
but soonafter a light fired up
when i alighted from your embraces i once
called home

in the absence of your skin,
i discovered yet another touch —
a warm, earthy, rain-freshened scent
of bliss and freedom

 

— eragabrinez

 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.