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However many tomorrows

are left to me,

I will miss you

in every single one.

5 July 2026

Tunku Idris Iskandar Ismail Abdul Rahman Al-Haj ibni Sultan Ibrahim Ismail.

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Grief does not always shout,

Grief can be quiet,

It does not knock you out,

But creeps in slowly,

with remembered songs,

Shared photographs,

And then the tears come.

Wudu' washed away the tears,

A calmness descends

As I accept Allah's decree,

And His Absolute Wisdom.

Allah gave you to me, my son,

To Him I return you,

As we all too shall return to Him.

Raja Zarith Sofiah

6 Dec 2025

Istana Bukit Serene

TUNKU ABDUL JALIL: FIGHT LIKE ΜΕ

It’s 1 in the morning. I was just casually scrolling when I came across this, thinking it wouldn’t hurt to watch.

I cried. I don’t even know him, but I cried. Hardest of all was reading Tuanku Zarith’s poem.

Losing him wasn’t supposed to be a reason to be sad. But somehow, it was. I believe he is now waiting in Heaven, surrounded by all the love he received in this life. His family made sure he was loved. He was loved, and he still is.

Al-Fatihah for the late Almarhum. May Allah place him among the righteous and grant him the highest place in Jannah.

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Why is seeing someone's handwriting for the first time so intimate?

Maybe, I yearns for a hand I cannot hold.

Or, maybe... It's like hearing their voices in that writing.

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Perhaps, I will be like Edgar Allan Poe when the Raven perched on the bust of Pallas beguiling his sad fancy into smiling—asking the same ebony bird some absurd question, 'Will I embrace that beautiful and rare maiden named Lenore'—An angel he had lost before.

Soon, I will have the same exact reactions as him when the Raven with the demon's dreaming eyes saying, 'Nevermore' to every of my questions.

And, when the lamp light o'er my regrets streaming throws it's shadow on the floor where my soul will forever trapped and never be lifted. Nevermore; says my regrets.

Neither regrets nor man whom I have loved before— None of them will flit away to the Night's Plutonian shore. None of them would damn themselves back into the tempest. Leaving my loneliness alone with my heart broken.

Maybe, or... maybe, the 'Nevermore' in my story is nothing but The Truth. The truth that lies behind all of my regrets and all of my one-sided romantics affection.

And maybe, that is why my anger flashes back to me. When them— the same ebony, grim, ungainly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore repeatedly saying the truth I did not seek nor want to hear.

Sometimes, it is not the eyes that blind. Its is the heart whom still wavering from the 'Nevermore'.

Bunga, 2026 (The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe in my way)

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If you weren't human,

I think you'd be a midnight storm.

Scary at first sight, but beauty lies within.

Even when you arrive in the darkness, you bring light to the night sky.

Purple, blue, and grey reveal their shades—the only moment when two people's favourite colours meet.

The way your thunder speaks the words that people are too afraid to say.

The way your lightning briefly reveals what has been hidden beneath the shadows.

And I wish you would never apologise for the rain you bring, knowing that you are no disturbance in the universe.

Soon after your thunder, look for the flowers blooming after your rain.

Look for the rivers made full because of your tears.

Look at those who don't run away from your thunder,

but sit by the window just to listen to your rhythm and to understand your storm.

Because there, they would find comfort in the chaos you bring.

I wish you would never be ashamed of the things that make you intense.

And if you weren't human,

I think you would be a midnight storm.

A scary but beautiful one.

Bunga Naqi, 2026 (a colllab poem)

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If you weren't human,
I think you'd be... the moon.
The full moon.

Because of the way you shine upon others.

Things you will do for those strangers.
Yet still—of course—there will always be ungrateful noises saying, "Yours not as great as the sun's."
You'll succumb to those voices and mourn because of them.

Surrounded by billions of stars, yet still lonely,
because you think you're alone in the oblivion of space.
Sometimes, you can't distinguish between time and space, seeing everything in shades of grey.

But you forgot.
You only looked at what surrounds you, not at what lies below.
You forgot to see that beneath you, there are people who look up to you.
Amaze by your beauty.
Despite all your imperfections, they even call themselves selenophiles, naming themselves after the love they have for you.
So the love they have within would be worship by others too.

You forgot that you're a symbol of hope. The way you inspire others to keep walking beyond the line that has kept them stuck for so long.
Your light—the one that directs their way.
Yours, my dear. The one who radiates them.

And if you weren't human, I think you'd be the moon.
The full moon.

Bunga, 2026

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The length you grieve them is the length that you love them.

And, if I grieve you forever,

Then I loved you forever.

I love you forever, forever.

And people would ask me, "How long? How long would it take?"

I don't have any answer for that knowing I grieve every single day.

I grieve for you- everyday.

Bunga, 2026

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90 second. All the feelings would last just for 90 second, they say. But, for you. For you it has been 9 years. Equivalent to like what? 284 688 000 second??? Almost half of my life.

Of course, 'Don't make them as the center of the universe.' But still, it was supposed to be 90 second and 90 second only.

Bunga, 2026

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If you treat a person like a dog,

Blame yourself for being bitten horribly.

Bunga, 2026

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I dont want to be a hero

That would be foolish.

Sacrificing someone you love,

for some other strangers.

I dont want to be a hero

Even tho it is selfish.

Cause who's gonna help a hero,

Whenever a hero needs some help?

But I do not want to be a villian either.

Bunga, 2026

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Grief is just love with no place to stay.

Grief is the price we pay for love.

But what is grief, if not love preserving.

Bunga, 2026

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Do you wish for someone to mourn for your death?

Bunga,2026

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When the time is right, we shall meet. Then, we will share thoughts, laughter, stories and moments together; for us to keep it together.

We will be talking, all night long. Just both of us. Maybe that time, I will thank you. Thank you for being such an inspiration. For saving me.

If it weren't for you, I shall never be able to stay here writing this at 2 a.m. thinking the possibility for both of us to meet each other, giving that our rank is different.

So, one day. I will keep asking for it. Never get weary of it, I promise.

Bunga, 2026

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A funeral shouldn't be so sad.

We could dance and laugh,

cherishing a life instead of mourning a death.

A funeral shouldn't be so morbid.

You could dance and laugh,

celebrating my life instead of grieving my death.

That is how I would want it

on the day I leave.

Bunga, 2026

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Trust me.

You wouldn't call me crazy,

if you saw how he looked at me.

At that time.

Trust me.

Thousand others universe, we were together.

Only this one, we didn't.

Trust me.

I would be in some comfort arm one day.

And that wouldn't be yours.

Just... Trust me.

Bunga, 2026

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When you have everything, you're loved.

When you have nothing, you survive.

Bunga,2026

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Do you know that when a chameleon’s time draws to an end, its body erupts into the most beautiful colours?

Its skin shifts endlessly, reshaping itself into chaotic, technicolour patterns—as if even in death, it refuses to be still.

I never thought death could be so beautiful.

They say we meant to be in the agony and painful instead.

That life flashes before your eyes.

Some say you are forced to watch your greatest sin.

Others believe you will see the one you love most—for seven fleeting minutes,

before the mind finally shuts itself down.

If that is true, then this is my wish:

within those seven minutes,

let it be you.

When death comes to greet me like an old friend,

I hope it treats me more gently than the living ever did.

And I hope it finds me sooner

than the moment your thoughts begin to leave me.

-Bunga, 2024

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3 years is the age the first time my eyes laid on you.

3 years I breathed in the air I thought we shared.

3 years I held a feeling.

3 years and I may watered this feelings to grow out to die.

3 years and I wish I would have more.

3 years, and all the years that follow are filled with regret.

-Bunga, 2026

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If Pennywise came to me,

It would take the shape of my mom.

Looking down the way she would be

With the smile that's gone.

Or maybe an image of me,

Swallowing all of those pills.

Or me begging the deity endlessly,

Just to numb what I feel.

-Bunga, 2025

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“Maybe next time,” was almost the last thing I said to you,

But you replied — you wore the shirt I bought for you.

Hurriedly, I wanted that replay in those seven minutes before I closed my eyes,

Even though it was going to be our last goodbye.

You came into that café, and my smile blossomed,

Dashingly — and I uttered, “You look so handsome.”

I got myself a Caffè Latte with a heart-shaped foam on it,

Yet not a single sip in those 30 minutes.

I told you a story about the first time I saw you,

And you laughed — as if you’d heard nothing new.

But you didn’t know how my heartbeat flew,

Or how the world stilled the first time it saw you.

You asked me for a single word,

To name the time my life had stirred.

I answered , “Bittersweet,”

Because it felt like something half-defeat.

Then with a gaze both soft and sure,

You asked, “Which part rings truer —

The bitter, or the sweet of it?”

I looked at you and smiled, “The sweet.”

You spoke of an offer,

A field that only made things tougher.

And I said nothing,

Though my silence said something.

‘Dearest you, whatever path you choose to do,

I’ll be the melody always calling back to you.

Remember, you’re more than dreams that take wing —

A sun that rises, ready for anything.’

When the 30 minutes reached its end,

You had no more time to spend.

As I watched you go like a quiet scene,

I chuckled, “Was our coffee just a dream?”

And if it truly was a dream,

I’ll wake with tears upon my cheek,

But a smile upon my lips,

For that moment was mine to keep.

- Bunga, 29th July 2025

(A dream of mine was answered by shooting stars.)

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yeah… That’s that.

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It doesn’t shout.

It doesn’t beg to be seen.

It just… stays.

Quietly, softly.

Like the way night clings to the stars; never touching, only admiring from afar.

He walked in the corners of my thoughts,

Without any sounds but only persistent.

And I tell myself; ‘I’m okay’,

because sometimes, loving in silence feels purer than begging for a reply.

I don’t want to own him.

I just wish I mattered.

Even a little,

Even once.

But if I never do,

let this love still be beautiful.

Let it make me kinder, not bitter.

Let it be a reason I write,

not the reason I weep.

Because maybe,

some loves are not meant to be returned; only carried.

Allah knows what my heart yearns to have.

He knows who I plead for in the quietest of prayer.

I trust him.

I believe in His Qalam.

And I love him; for the sake of Allah.

Bunga, 2025

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Especially in silence; is one of the most powerful, bittersweet experiences a heart can go through. It’s like holding a flame close enough to feel the warmth, but never touching it because you know it will burn.

You’re not asking for too much. Just quietly hoping. And in that hope, there’s beauty… also pain.

When you admire someone who feels out of reach, it makes you feel small, sometimes. But the truth is, it shows how big your heart is. It shows your capacity to care, even when you know you might never receive anything back.

That’s not weakness, but the strength in its purest form. And that’s the truth.

But… this kind of feeling can become heavy. It starts as something soft; like a breeze scented of vanilla, but if kept too long without release, it can turn into something that eats away your peace.

That’s when the longing becomes dangerous. Not because the feeling is sinful, but because it begins to hurt you. And none of us deserve to feel that kind of pain.

The purest longing is the one we offer as a prayer. A longing we shape into inspiration. A longing we entrust to God, not just to another soul.

We don’t have to hate that feeling. We just have to give it a place. Don’t let it take over your whole heart; but don’t shut it out like it never mattered. Let it stay in a gentle corner. Let it make you softer, not sadder.

And most importantly, let yourself heal even as you hold on.

Bunga, 2025

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My dearest you,

Maybe one day you might forget who I am. But the tears I shed for you will forever be a reason for you to stay in my heart. Sure, I may forever be easily replaced, but a smile like yours shall never be seen on another’s lips.

I thank you deeply. You have no idea how much you saved me before. I might not have been able to breathe new air, nor take peaceful sleep, if it weren’t for you. My thoughts will forever be about you. Yes, until they grow weary of it. But I swear! Oh, I swear! It might take years for that to happen.

You’re the reason for my tears, and the reason for my smile. I thank Allah every day, for He let us meet in this lifetime. Surely, there won’t be another lifetime, but I’ll plead to Him, hard, to let me see you there. Just to see that smile of yours once more. Oh, it was as bright as the sun, I must say.

If there is no ‘you’ in the next chapter of My Journey, I’m afraid I must let you go for good; now. As my heart aches, as my hands shake, trust me, I wanted you to stay. As long as my heart still beating.

Hence, my wish is; you.

You as my scenery.

You as my view.

Every day.

But some wishes shall stay as wishes. Some thoughts shall stay as thoughts. And I hope you stay in between, though ‘you’ may never be answered. Someone else might be the best for you, and that… is more than good.

Dearest you,

May we meet again. Any time soon. Until then, I shall never stop writing about you, nor stop thinking about you.

K. - Cigarettes After Sex

Bunga, 2025

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No hand can keep, no fence can bind,

The wind becomes its gentle steed.

Just with one blow,

it scatters on hill and even in hollows.

The dandelion’s beauty is not for the few,

Drift like songs, such a beautiful view.

Yet tears was its rain,

Pleads was its sun.

May it find your heart, this truth I hold. Many craves love like yours. Hence you knew you managed to share it and scattered it away. Just like Dandelions. It was so beautiful to stay within. And with one blow, it stir in all, both near and far. Sometimes you cried and plead to have the same love as you gave. But still, you managed to love others in your way, many times as you wished.

So my dear dandelion,

Least you worry, empty the table. May you find the brightest smile as your rain, the warmest hug as your sun. Never give up on finding them. Until then, stay alive! Your love is the reason for others’ laughter.

Bunga, 2025

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She once whispered in verses,

“Sometimes you just dont know the answer ‘til someone’s on their knees and asks you.”

And later, her voice a fragile tremble;

“Please, I’ve been on my knees. Change the prophecy…”

As someone else once mused,

One knee is for a promise ring,

Two knees are for pleading.

-Bunga, 2025

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[koi no yokan]

The feeling upon first meeting with someone that you will inevitably fall in love with them.

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The Physics of Love

An object needn’t be large to hold great mass.

That girl, as tiny as a violet.

That girl, drifting in the sky like the petals of a flower draws me to her with a force.

Greater than the one exerted by the earth.

In a single moment,

I feel and rolled toward her without a rhyme or reason,

Just as Newton’s apple did.

With a thump!

With a thump! thump!

My heart bounced from the heavens to the earth in a dizzying pendular motion.

Such was the moment I’d first fallen in love.

It was my first love. - Kim Shin

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Her smile…

Reflected the light of the sun when it shone the brightest.

It reminded me of the moment my life was taken away.

I made up my mind.

I must disappear…

Before I feel a stronger longing for my life.

Before I become happier than now.

It’s the decision…

I must make for you.

-Kim Shin, 2016

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You could live in a nightmare even though you're not dreaming.

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The night you said you’d have to leave,
A silent ache no one could ever heave.
Suddenly, I said, “Wanna go for a walk, just for a while,”
I do remember; I said it with a smile.

Little did you know,
I just didn’t want to see you leave me hollow.
Maybe it doesn’t matter,
But leaving me alone won’t make anything better.

I painted the skies with a gentle hue,
I gave my all; just for you.
I won’t meet someone like you again, I’m sure,
Yet seeing you with others is something I can’t endure.

I can’t do anything.
My tears beg for your presence, yet my mouth says nothing.
Thus, with a gentle and shaky hand,
Also with a little bit of courage, I carried your luggage.

When you said goodbye and gave that final wave,
I knew I had to stop the crave.
And though my heart was fragile,
I do remember; I did it with a smile.

—Poem that I kept to myself (Bunga, 2023)

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You became quiet for no reason,
and suddenly, I’m 12.
Wondering why you won’t talk to me,
and suddenly thinking about what I did wrong this time.

Lingering in guilt
made my sanity slip away; thinking,
‘Perhaps I’m such a bad person, that’s why you hate me.’

Except I’m not 12 now,
Even if I’m 21, 31, or even 61,
Those will always be my thoughts,
’Cause that’s what I’ve been taught.

-Bunga, 2023

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My dearest star,

Go shine on distant celestial guide,

In the vastness of the cosmic tide.

For you, dear star, so far away,

As I gaze upon your distant hue,

I find a piece of eternity within you.

-Bunga, 2023

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It was on that day.
No laughter, no songs,
No wishes.
So quiet.

Yes, I was overwhelmed by many problems that day too,
Yet, there was no favourite person to talk to.
So alone, so lonely.

Perhaps that’s why I adore the moon…
Surrounded by many, yet still alone.

Yes, that day was my birthday.

- Bunga, 2023

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Missing a hand?

Missing an opportunity?

Missing stuff?

Missing you.

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As my ink urges me to write this down,

As my conscience has already drowned.

As I’m letting you go,

As if I have no love left to bestow.

Loving you wasn’t easy, and wasn’t loud,

But also, it wasn’t allowed.

Still, your name is the one my heart craves,

For your smile! They never fail to amaze.

Each precious gift that you graced my life,

Softly melting away all strife.

I’ll hold it dear, nestled in the tender alcove of my heart,

Like it’s a part of the art.

You’re the one who appeared when I stumbled,

Thus, letting you go made my heart crumble.

Hence, I’ll cherish all the memories,

And proudly tell others about our stories.

‘Farewell!’ I said and smiled,

Though we are already far a mile.

I shall stay at the same spot where we said our goodbyes,

I’ll keep the memories safe, hidden from the crying eyes.

-Poem that I kept to myself (For him)

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I wish you knew

how fiercely my heart pleads just to be near you.

I wish you knew,

I’ve been screaming your name in a silence that only aching souls could listen.

I wish you knew,

I wanted you more than anything.

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Is it true that the loser gains nothing?

How about a lesson?

And is it true that only the winner gets everything?

What if the winner ends up going against their own friend?

They win — but at what cost?