Langit was a boy, beautiful boy, whose eyes as sharp as pieces of shattered glass, whose smile as rare as snow in a droughtland. Langit means sky, Biru means blue; in his name I found two of my favorite things, and in his soul I found love.
Langit was a boy, whom I love, whom I despise, whom I could never understand,
Langit said he wished to be born as the sea instead of the sky. Laut, not langit.
“But I like sky more,” I said. “The blue calms me down. And there’s the stars.”
“I’m sick of the sky,” Langit said. “It is never going anywhere.”
I was too afraid to ask, “So you’re leaving?” because in the silence I could taste the word yes.
Langit means sky, my sky, and on that day I learned that it was falling.
Langit was on the beach. I knew that it was the end, because he was smiling, smiling at the sea.
“This is me,”
Then langit became one with the ocean, until the blue no longer has limit, until the sky was sunk by its counterpart, until Langit’s stares and touches that never been, disappeared, consumed, swallowed by the endless depths. But he was smiling nonetheless.
Langit was the name. The name that remains. The name that stays. That never gone.
110212 | because I miss the beach and you.
Entry untuk Jenny Matlock’s Alphabe-Thursday – Letter “L”