OPEN: letters for the soul [#wattys2020]

WHO WRITES FOR THE POET?

Who writes for you?

It was probably a question I dare not to ask
But maybe I have an answer for you
So go ahead and please continue

Who writes for you?

Nothing much but it was different in a poet's realm
I have witnessed how you danced with  words
I have heard the sound of your heart in a piece
Almost dashing and true in every stanza
You have mastered the art of poetry
I have seen  how your eyes glistens
in every metaphor and rhythm
I have spoken to your non-existent reflection
She said those words that are unspoken

Who writes for you?

Well I guess everybody knew
How you seem to resemble the moon
In all glory it was another aspect of you
I stared at your pale face
It was round like the moon you mean
but it also shone amidst the darkness
It wasn't because of your skintone
but barely how it is breathtaking for you
to be in the middle of the silence
When only the winds are whispering
the song you're the only one can hear
How you spread your arms
to embrace the void that screamed danger
It was you who did it
You were one risk-taker

You tried to reach for it with your bare hands
But you can't since it was changing
And I exactly realize it was you!
You were like that—half incredible, half amazing
And then I saw how your pen glided
Friction in every corner of your paper
Your eyes began to water
I saw you again, writing your heart out but

Who writes for you?

My brows furrowed as I tugged myself in the cold
Under a tree where I can see you directly
You were leaning on the window pane
Smiling widely as you watched the rain
falling so free and little by little
Everyone was in a freezing battle
And the only exception was you
It gave you the warmth
Odd, but it melted your heart
Certainly anyone can tell, the nimbus clouds were your favorite
Everything was perfect in your own little bubble
Scribbled words were in a shuffle
A new piece have been born like magic
It was excellent and well written but then

Who writes for you?

Wearing a vintage white dress
You stroll the field bare footed
Your hair in a half ponytail
Tied with a black ribbon in trail
Swaying together with the wind
As if you were dancing till the very end
Far behind was your castle
Looming with gigantic towers
The princess had escape her home
To watch what it's like
when the sunrise shone
As the hues of golden light caress your cheek
Created a perfect scenery of both reality and magic

I stood there in awe

Leaving every footsteps of bravery
Just for you to catch your own destiny
As your feet collided with the damp grass
A new world I couldn't grasp
Then you sat and started to create
something that's familiar again
Filled with figures put into words
I have realized you write on your own accord
No title can't hold you from anything
Not even from feelings the things you are supposed to feel
No holding of barred fences
You let it all out— taking chances

A princess who writes poems and letters
Tell me what in this world would have been better?
Ah, there I go again with that question in mind

Who writes for you?

Hanging around the red french curtains
Blinded by the lights that seemed uncertain
Where am I?
Below me is a far-flung stage
Shocked was etched in every corner of my face
Looking at the girl in the middle of the sea of people
There you are with your spotless skill
Gracing with confidence as you utter the spill
And for that you were spontaneously applauded
I winced for a second when everything disappeared
The noise, the people, the loud cheer
You were left dangling at the center
The lights change its every color
Showing the emotions you've kept inside
Red for anger
Yellow for joy
Black for pain
Gray for looming

But nevertheless it was you

You have a skill for art
A truth anyone can't deny
But when the lights faded
and the cheers subsided
The mask started to unravel
As it shows what you truly long
As it holds your well-written song
Every melody and lyrics
Was exquisite, true, and a piece of music
The words were curated with passion
For it was you who wrote it
Filled with broad emotions
Expression was your only intention

Till then,

Who writes for you?

My eyes roam as I straddled the hallways
Of the enormous bookshelves on sunny days
Everything was peculiar but familiar
It felt like I have been here before
Scanning my hands through every book
I saw how your name glistens in one look
Printed in a famous and intricate calligraphy
My heart boomed happily

Every corner felt like home
As I grimace through every pages
The fonts were there in ages
I was reading your original pieces
This is your poetry
This is you
I wandered as I felt it
How you leave traces of you in it
Every rhyme and stanzas were quite a show
But deep inside you know
people may come and go
but the ink will stay forever

Who writes for you?

Time is passing as I ran through the dark hallways
I was never been this frightened
I can't see for every corner was pitch black
But my feet was bringing me to a direction
I finally halted as I came across the door
I felt numb and empty
It was then it dawned to me
I was fading
like a complete hasty memory

I fumbled upon the varnished wood
I made it inside
Only to find a woman standing
in front of an old victorian mirror
With a furrowed brows and curiosity
She thought she was loosing her sanity
For she couldn't find a reflection of her

My voice parched in an uneven whisper
She was alerted to hear her intruder
But nothing screamed danger
I blinked twice, no— thrice as my hands started to be transparent
Her head unsteady, trying hard to find me

Tears formed at the corner of my eyes
For I was just there behind her all along
Standing like a lost soul in the middle of the night
But amidst that, she still couldn't see me
Everything is wrong in this picture
Darkness crept and hovered my whole body
The poet grazed once again into the mirror
Her eyes filled with shock and horror

It showed two images in a single frame
Still my face in a contrast alley
There was no light to reveal my true identity
But I have always felt it
The familiarity, my connection to this girl
It was in complete silence
Where I can almost hear her every steady breathing
Consciously aware of her surrounding
She wasn't alone

Lifting the weight of my both feet
I managed to get closer by an inch
She was about to face me
When suddenly the heavens opened
Erupting a splendid phenomena
A silver lightning ensues
She can finally see me

My lips stretched into a smile for a menace
Something my sould had suffice
As I opened my mouth for the last time
It was long been forgotten
But I have failed to recognize who I am
I was the lost reflection of the poet
Escaping from everything that robs my peace
Trying to feed my curiosity in place
I roamed and watched her every move
As to why and how and who it should
As to the day I have been longing to see
The answers that sounds wrong but felt so right
As if searching for something
As if seeking for something
It was mirage
The moment where I realized
What I am here for
What she was here for

Serenity filled me to the brim
As I victoriously able to exhale the final blow
It was achingly dark and shadows fixated
Reckoning to the woman with my pupils dilated
My sight was filled with every hue

"Who writes for you?"

The poet remained steady and calm
I can feel myself vanishing
Slowly I was kept inside a cozy abyss
But bizarre was gone for it felt like home
Then I saw the poet stood in front of me
I was back, no longer the lost reflection
Penetrating my gazes through the classic fixtures
As the questions still rings in echo fractures

"Who writes for you?"

"I do" we both answered.