配图 / Letizia Le Fur

配图 / Letizia Le Fur Open House My secrets cry aloud. I have no need for tongue. My heart keeps open house, My doors are widely swung. An epic of the eyes My love, with no disguise. My truths are all foreknown, This anguish self-revealed. I’m naked to the bone, With nakedness my shield. Myself is what I wear: I keep the spirit spare. The anger will endure, The deed will speak the truth In language strict and pure. I stop the lying mouth: Rage warps my clearest cry To witless agony. Theodore Roethke #诗歌

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配图 / Magnus

配图 / Magnus Beirut, My Birthmark Beirut, my birthmark What came with you, Beirut? Bullets before my mother's milk Beirut, you are under my skin, split bit by bit You melt into sunset on blistered rooftops It hurts to touch you, Beirut You are a lesson I will never learn It hurts to love you, Beirut But I still knock at your door at 4:00 a.m. With the neon lights in your neighborhood are dwindling when the political chants in your square are soothed I will stay outside your door I know you will never open for me Beirut, I kissed your cracked sidewalks And slept huddled against your bullet ridden walls You and I, it's a love story for the books Dima Mikayel Matta #诗歌

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#情侣 #关系 "To the Starlight 1,342 Kilometers Away"

#情侣 #关系 "To the Starlight 1,342 Kilometers Away" Dear my love, The moonlight over Kedah is spilling through UUM's palm fronds tonight, like strands of your hair falling as you adjust the oven for brownies, carrying their warm sweetness. Seventeen hours ago, when you messaged me about rushing back to your dorm in the rain, I suddenly recalled the verse from *Song of Solomon*: "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine" how I wish I could shield you with a Tianjin umbrella through Tangerang's monsoon, carving out a patch of clear sky just for you. When you speak of those brownies you’ve never shown anyone, your voice softens like dawn filtering through stained glass. Closing my eyes, I see it: under Jakarta’s midnight desk lamp, you’re piping rose patterns onto cakes, while UUM’s pre-dawn breeze carries dewdrops, weaving our shared dreams of European castles into the same cloud. When my mother saw your photo, she said, "This girl’s eyes hold starlight," unaware it’s the glow that sparks when you talk about Gothic flying buttresses. Though our hands haven’t met yet, every time you proudly show your architectural models on video, I’m reminded of *1 Corinthians*: "Love never fails" just like how you taught me to simmer syrup to 118°C, our love, too, simmers across time zones into amber clarity. Last night, as rain lashed my dorm window, I traced the silhouettes of Tianjin Eye and UPH’s dome with my breath on the glass. Suddenly, our story felt like the double-helix staircase you designed: you restoring Jakarta’s old train stations, me charting Kedah’s monsoon clouds, each climbing toward the same constellations. When the dry season returns, let’s watch sunsets over the Seine. I’ll spend half a year perfecting palm-sugar madeleines, their seashell ridges hiding the stained-glass hues of Xikai Church. As Sainte-Chapelle’s colored light dances on your lashes, maybe we’ll both remember this Kedah night where I wrote missing you into starlight beneath the pavilion, while you, in Tangerang’s rain, became the gentlest benchmark of my existence. Where every raindrop maps our reunion, Jonadab Wang Beneath the whispering palms of UUM 给大家展示一下我写给异国恋女友的情书,虽然我不信仰宗教而她信仰基督教,虽然她是个华裔但连中文都不会说,但她真的很爱我,我也很爱她,希望我们以后永远走下去

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