That's How I'd Imagine You and Me

fiction

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This is how I'd imagine you and me — not in a grand hall with rose petals covering the floor. I'd imagine you and me lying on a maroon rug, where we can still feel the pointy end of the grass brushes our skin through the fluffy-like fabric. We are at the open, a park, somewhere unfamiliar, not home, maybe Vienna. I think it is fair since our definition of home lies elsewhere across the ocean. The clouds are in a perfect cushion shape against flaring baby blue sky. You'd wear your favorite Batman t-shirt and washed out jeans whilst I wear my black deer-print Summer dress right above the knee as I could feel the breeze sweeps through my thighs. It is the first day of Summer and we have not seen each other in flesh for over two seasons. As we lay down, We'd talk about space ships, car ships and medical capsule that should be invented by 2154 and would be the death of doctors and medical degree. Sometimes we'd argue, not in the sense of fighting, but just simply being in two opposite sides. Although, honestly, I secretly agree with you from the start, but I'd still stay on the other side of the road, just because I like the way when you look at me when you tell me I was wrong. There is this gush of sincere determination in your eyes that says I meant so much to you, you want me to be on your side. Then, when it feels like the everything move in motion as the sun turns orange-like at the tip of the horizon, you'd say, "I've got to film this." and you have your camera ready, while I was taking a mental picture of you, filming the world as it happen. For a moment, I'd forget everything that I have feared. I'd forget that after the sun set and the clock strikes ten, we have to go to different destination; I'd forget at the end of the day, we'd be gone in to the wilderness of uncertainties, apart, solely holding on to a display of cheap souvenir that recites fractured memories — Vienna and milkshake prose. Nonetheless, I'd say we'd stay bloom, in distance.


This is how I'd imagine you and me, if we were ever meant to be.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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What We Could Have Been

fiction

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I want to see what we could have been.

If I said yes, instead of no.

If you said stay, instead of go.

If we stick around for another moment, just another moment,
would you changed your mind?

Could we forget our differences and stay for the long run?

Not just over the shifts of seasons but  both for the snow and sun.

Cause I have seen the ray of sunshine in your eyes, 

 and tasted the flavour of rainbow on your wine-kissed lips.

I want to know what we could have been.

Cause I feel there could be another story waiting to begin.

And this time, I think we could win.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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Days

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There are days that you feel lower than the ground, drowning deeper than a sinking ship. Don't worry. Those kind of days are part of the story. It is what gives rainbow and sunshine meanings. It is the moondust that pitch in the beauty of the universe as a whole. Without them, you won't know how great the good days feel like.

Swanage, Dorset. 2013.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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Fourth of November

fiction

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Happy fourth of November.

Bless you, the lost soul.

I have always missed you.

Let you be forever lost and never be found.

And I will always be your home that you will never know.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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As Long As We Are Not Alone

fiction

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I'd like to think we are like a cup of tea that soothes each other company briefly. Brewed with luke-warm water, fused in anti-clockwise spin, we'd get each other through the times when we least want to be alone. But I am not yours, nor you are mine.

I'd feel comfort when you rush in. The warmth, taste and scent. But as soon my lips not on yours, as soon my hand lose the grip of your cheek, we are stretched in space and time alongside with ego and pride.

We'd store each other in the cupboard with the long list of names and figures. Untouched. By the time the sky is looking grey or the lights is too bright flashing in rhymes with the sound of fast beat music, I'd crave for you dearly.

I'd crave for you as you'd crave for me — at the fragile hours, when honesty and a little too much touch of whisky are breathing down your neck, trashing your usual ego and pride down the bin. Then it softens mine, too. Then somehow, we are here again, laying to the sound of nothing.

We'd lay in silence, quietly looking at the harm we have caused ourselves. The harm that none of us can see, but there. Like oxygen. And we breathe into it. We cover underneath it, through the shift of season, as we merely seek warmth from each other till the urge stops pouring and sensibility rise above the sun.

Back then, we were once golden. We could have had it all; but we crumbled into ashes too soon. Then I stopped questioning why we couldn't be better than a cup of tea. We'd just lay low in blatant acceptance to settle below the bar, not to be greater than we thought — as long we are not alone.

We are alright. At least, I'd like to tell myself that we are. So I do not need to worry, when I am running out of you, and you have consumed me enough, I will be just fine.

A piece by : Fiya Muiz
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