Jiwa

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I squinted my eyes when he opened the door. Shadowing me, he walked closer and sat on the bed next to me. Caressed me, knew I was awake.

I rolled over, giving him some space. I heard sound of him taking his clothes off, had to be all of them. He sneaked behind me, sighed so heavily I could smell alcohol out of his breath. Agonizing it was, laying next to someone whose burden could no more be felt, let alone be shared. But people had their ways, I believed, and to some, silence was what kept them sane. So I followed.

“What if I lose you again?” he asked.

“You won’t,” I assured. Didn’t know why I said that. “Now, sleep.”

He refused.

We tangled tongues by the kiss, hard enough to make his heart pacing rapidly. I sensed something was roaming up between his thighs. His neck was full with my hands, down to his chest and his back. Rammed against me, his speed was more than we used to. Sound was the definition of his low-key swearing and preaching. At the last stroke, he screamed God’s name and shuddered a bit. He buried his face in my embrace, right where he eventually fell asleep.

I remained still, but it was then my call to depart. I moved him aside and watched myself fading. It fascinated me how I could come to his dream. My guess, it was either God had granted his wish or the angels were just too careless on my whereabout.

(Jakarta, 19 Agustus 2016)

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