Words by Faiz Asbunwijaya
Somewhere in my past, in a dusted one to you
I sat next to you in a cramped rural bus
Your hair brushing against my neck
Tip of my lips brushing against your cheek
Our eyes met not, but we knew how they look like
We knew how they lived, how they desired, how they screamed
Our mouths spoke not, but we knew each other’s heart
We knew how they felt, how they yearned, how they breathed
Our skin touched
And I felt the water of your mother’s womb that you swam in
You held my shoulders
And felt the blood I fl ailed about in
Your hand on my lap, my hand on your heart
Your entire childhood beating on my cusp
My entire adolescence burning from my thighs to your hand
With shame
With shame of the past guzzling up to the surface
To pass it to the touch of your hand
And I felt your pain bursting out
From your heart
Burning my fi ngers and nails red
So that I may know all the tears you have shed
And now, I sat next to you in a cramped rural bus
For the second time
Oh Lord, how may I say this to her
Oh Lord, how may I utter this to her
That I am in love with the person next to me?
