Little Nasty One from the Island

Empty Coke Zero Bottle

A year has passed since I left New York's hustle,
Now Bjork's tune, in my ears, do rustle.
An empty Coke Zero bottle by my side,
A naked East Asian model, my thoughts collide.

You apologized for chains unseen on my ankles,
While your friend's girlfriend's words wrangle.
"Her tantrums, they rage," her whispers so near,
"Go bloom dear," your voice echoes, I hear.

Years spent together worth mere minutes call,
The "whys" linger like ghosts in a hall.
The "hows" haunt me, like those figures in sight,
Naked women roamed on your windows' light.


Yogyakarta, April 2024.