Lilium Candidum

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by VVIPEACE

by VVIPEACE

The coffee shops puffed with excitement, the fragrant brew came to my nose, not until my tongue and lips tasted it, but I knew it must be sweet.

The sweetness slowly merged with my soul, and my heart was swayed in sorrow. A sadness that never subsides, because it is still puffing out the fumes of love. Sweetness that is so bitter.

Is bitter so despicable to those who don't like it? Isn't the best thing about life to enjoy bitterness and sadness dissolved in a cup of coffee from selected beans. That's what you think, and for me it's still milk that I like.

That's why I still can't like the comma as a sign, the bitter taste as a flavor, because it has too many things in it that I don't really like about the next event.

For those who I think can't enjoy lara and love, I think all of them really need to meet your smile to know the true meaning of sweetness. Sweetness that is inexhaustible.

Sweetness that is timeless. That was her, the pure white girl with sad eyes at that time. Whose form I cannot paint words, because everything about her will only arouse deep curiosity about the row of memories of the touch of her lips alone.

I used to tell stories and tales about reminiscence and all things related to coming home, including fireflies that no longer exist in urban areas and people's minds.

If I told you about meeting one, there would only be a few who believed, then many who denounced. You are one of the few who believe, which is special. If I think about it, the longing of fireflies is the same. Homesickness that has disappeared. Eroded by the times that no longer pay attention. Perished without a sign, pulled over without a word.

Like us, who are no longer together. My longing is like an eyelid, blinking briefly then dying until the morning. My prayers are often too long, and that's all, maybe God is tired of hearing them, then for once God wants to stop the night, when all the memories of the night boil down in alabaster, eliminating the rays of sunlight that are now replaced.

Because light turns into a boring thing, so that people can appreciate silence more and finally meet to just do farewell. A poetic farewell filled with sobs. Now the night is getting scarce, while we are still longing for the wound.

Meanwhile, you are busy washing clothes behind your house. The tiredness that you enjoy so much with your mother and loved ones around you. Do you include your husband now? I hope you don't.

Your heart is the reason why I can no longer say home to another heart. The place where I once lived was so serene. My name was once lodged right in it, though only for a moment and not more than a month. It was so good, my friend.

My body was cold like dawn in the countryside when you held my longing for you to always remember. Then you said "I'm home". That's something I remember and cherish. I replay that moment, that moment in my head over and over again. Still your figure wanders around in a niche that no longer floats.

My sadness is getting shady there, and waterfalls have flowed from my eyes. Flash floods have occurred, evacuate immediately. Now, loneliness is my comrade in arms in trying to forget old love and also lara, brushing off its ripples like young warriors, forcibly closing the door to happiness with him, because at this time the heart has been familiarized by disappointment.

I didn't really regret your departure at that time, but I often felt and felt, forgotten so quickly that now I'm still crying violently. Didn't you feel anything when you left the special person you previously loved?

I deliberately keep this sadness, so that one day when your love whines and pushes back, you can visit me again as a means of recreation and communication. I think laughing at men to change their hearts immediately is the right and usual entertainment for you at this time. But not with me. Again I'm hazy, expecting the past body to meet soon.