You've learned from the coffee drops on my books that I have so many openings through which you can slip inside my world and stab the universe that surrounds me.
I can't clean the coffee mess for I've been running out of tissues more recently than before; I believe my books can endure the wetness for now, unlike my cheeks.
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There was that fleeting moment during which we sat and tried to define 'love' and 'beauty', but we ended messing up the whole world until the earth started to rotate from east to west and gravity failed to pull us back to reality.
It was then when I found out that I don't exist anymore, just a passing-by breath, unnoticed for how insignificant it was. After all, this world is drowning blindly in so many breaths of lost identities.
I could have called you but I forgot your name and your figure has became a hazy outline of memories that I've started to question my senses and better judgement; were you real?
But you weren't a history and neither was I...
I just wonder why you never asked me about those coffee drops, were you too afraid the answer would make you drown in their dark brown colour or were you just so careless as of to find out why I'm alive yet?
I just wish you'd knock at the door or slam the windows shut or rock me back and forth violently... maybe then if I hear all the bangs and knocks, I'd realise that I still have some life left in me...
Some life still rolling there somewhere in my corpse...
I just wish you'd do that... but I know you won't...
Because you hate brown and you hate coffee and you just simply can't
... look at me
(C)Noor 10/10/2009






So very much to help one to wonder about many things in this life. Beautiful write!!!! 


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