Words & Writings

Misplaced

Misplaced

After a year, everything seems still to be misplaced.
Like a carton of white milk outside the refrigerator, a Vogue subscription form lying wet on the bathroom, a camera inside the wardrobe, books under the table, dolls upside down, keyboard near the empty wrapper of instant cappuccino. Broken sofa on the crowded street.

Your messages, dated almost a year ago.
I still have them completely. Like stamps of dead philatelist but also like lyric of an instrumental song.
Your face, his face, my fate.

My little heart.

After a year, everything seems still to be misplaced.

Filed under: Words & Writings

by

Puty Puar. F/27. Indonesian. Former rocker, blogger, freelance illustrator, book enthusiast, who is running little business while homemaking. Started this blog in 2002.