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Nỗi nhớ này,

Gửi trời đêm nay.

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Parts of me - Christi Steyn

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The other day,

I looked at the dark blue sky above where you laid.

My fingers ran through your dark hair

Wondering about the smell of herbs from the older days you used to wear.

I missed those times,

my nostalgia of you beautifully covered the color of the clouds

and the lashes hiding your eyes that were so brown.

I missed your fierce stare,

I missed your soft voice,

woke the lonely nights up with closeness and joys.

I missed myself, and I also missed us,

Full, filled, stories, and a certain Herzt.

I couldn’t explain, couldn’t say, couldn’t wish,

I only stayed, present, and stayed.

- Doan

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I am very lonely.

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When it rains, you are missed.

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and then we pretend to be strangers again.

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For my dearest darling, treasured, cherished Agatha whom I worship. With respect, adoration, admiration, kisses, gratitude, best wishes, and love from Z to A.

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Us had no words. The peace got in. Then we were not sure of the way back to the ancient rainy nights wrapped in blankets covered by starry lights. For a moment, we thought we would never go far. After a moment, we were on two sides of the water, tasting uncertain nostalgia. Did we say something memorable?

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Muộn rồi. Ngắm trăng thôi.

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Tôi muốn tắt nắng đi, cho màu đừng nhạt mất; Tôi muốn buộc gió lại, cho hương đừng bay đi.

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Yesterday’s sunset.

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Buồn ngủ giữa buổi sáng trăng

Thèm vắt chân lên thành cửa sổ

Ngắm trăng tròn qua vành lá chuối

Gối đầu lên cánh tay người lạ

Ê a vâng dạ, hát ca, cười hề.

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Lâu rồi mới được suýt khóc vì vui.

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Nhắm mắt thấy mùa hè

Hôm nay đã xem Nhắm mắt thấy mùa hè.

Nhớ Ba, nghĩ đến anh. Và em. Và những mùa hè đã qua.

Nghĩ đến chia xa. Nghĩ đến không gặp lại.

Nghĩ đã từng nghĩ tới viễn cảnh chia xa. Nghĩ từng nghĩ tới viễn cảnh không gặp lại.

Nghĩ: nhớ và thương, và mãi mãi. Những điều mình từng hỏi nhau khi những mùa hè mình còn có nhau.

Nghĩ đến những lời nguyện cầu trong đêm. Cầu cho kế hoạch của trời và đất, sẽ không tách mình khỏi một trang giấy. Cầu sự sống rồi cầu an yên.

Nghĩ nắm chặt tay nhau hè này, hè sau chắc sẽ vẫn thế.

Nghĩ: ừ vậy là mình nghĩ sai rồi.

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tròn vo

Lòng vòng, lòng vòng, lòng vòng.

Rốt cuộc, mình đã ở gần nhau thôi mà.

Rốt cuộc, người mình phải gặp, tới lúc sẽ hiện ra thôi. Rồi người hổng duyên ở lại, tới lúc sẽ biến mất thôi.

Phải hông?

- chắc vậy thiệt đó.

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Tháng năm được một tuần. Thấy đời quả thực rất ngắn vì thời gian trôi rất mau. Từ lâu đã không theo thói thường, nhưng vẫn loay hoay không hiểu mình là gì giữa cuộc sống. Có thể cười có thể yêu. Nhưng không biết có thể thương được không nữa. Hay thật ra chưa từng biết thương ai? Khờ dại sao cũng chẳng thể tha thứ được mình của vài quyết định bộp chộp. Và đôi khi chỉ muốn gặp ai đó, đánh vào ngực, tát vào má, cào cấu, la hét. Đã đời rồi cũng chẳng biết tiếp theo là gì? Một tuần tháng năm không ngủ nhiều, thấy thương cái giường mình, vì chắc là cô đơn.

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11st april,

3am.

I woke up in the middle of the night hearing the bungalow neighbor talking on his phone in Mandarin. The consistent sound of the AC weaves in the usual quietness of the nights on this little island. While trying to come back to sleep, I found myself becoming more and more wide awake, noticing the Gekko making his way on the leafy rooftop. I reached for my phone, went through all the notifications, watched a few new posts on Instagram, seen two or three messages in Messenger, skimmed a bunch of photos and stories, then sank into the night.

I then made way back to the blazing hot Summer in Gmünd last June and July. I was there as an exchange student when the countryside city slowly crawled from the snow-rainy days of Winter until Autumn quietly kicked in. I remember having the best part of my college life in the City, living in a dorm, walking to school in between the yellow fields, visiting places with lovely companies, drinking German and Belgium beer dancing on the university’s main hall, swimming under the summer rain in the nearby lake, watching stars lying on the old goal post on the next door football field, barefoot strolling up the hills back to dorm after a beer night downtown, singing my favourite indie songs on the streets, falling in love and falling out of love.

I miss the way the roads would carry me to the field of stars and shining full moon. I miss how I would stare into someone’s eyes and felt so much understanding. I miss the overnight talks with those people I first met and barely knew. I miss the books I read and had someone to share with. I miss the photos I took now being left somewhere in the boxes of memories, that I have decided to keep them stay a silent life away from my current steps. But they keep coming again from the back of my head, appearing so beautiful and touching, asking me to walk those roads again. Just this time in tears.

Those roads we drove together on your blue car, just the two of us through the scenic countryside of Germany, singing our way into the wind outside the rear windows. I remember how much we were into the hits at the time like nobody was watching our child-like souls dancing joyfully in love and happiness. I would then faint away in sleep and you would take picture of me, taking advantage of the situation and tease me afterwards.

These little pretty episodes of our sad story haunt me now and then. Mostly when I find myself watching the new moon raising above the horizon between the ocean and the sky. When I walk the strange roads saying Hi to the animals, living my new life-chapter, reminiscing about noting everything down so I could share with you afterwards. We have always been on the two sides of the globe, so much distance in between, even though we might share the same time zone like we do now. I found out that was the most bitter thing that happened to be real in our time together. That life had planned our story that way and we tried to crawl out of destiny but did not succeed.

Lately I found peace under the starlight sky, when nights do not feel as much silent. My heart embraces its loneliness in every beat of liveliness, seeking for the solitude I have been needing all along. My steps are small and cautious, walking through this lonely time holding tightly on my own heart of scars. Because it still keeps beating. And yearning for love. Some other day. Another beautiful one.