It Is Your Silvery Glow Painting Temporary Pictures On My Walls,

Sometimes I think to myself my heart must smell the same as my room, full of smoke and blood and air thick with the sickly sweet fragrance of regret. Maybe if these wrists drip a little more, my inner child will learn what it means to win.

A victory.

A reward.

A choice.

I hope peace tastes like the clarity I've only known to last in the quieter seconds, where a favourite song plays and suddenly the rain doesn't drip quite as heavy as before. Where you're standing at a crossing next to someone and they smile at you and say "I like your t-shirt", and flustered you say back "I like your tattoos, thanks" and go your separate ways when the lights change.

Both better, neither changed.

Where you look in the mirror to see the face you haven't felt close to in years, no longer cracked.

A ghost's perfect portrait.

Date Written: 28th of October, 2023

Letter #15

I still think about you some days - Most days. It's been hard not to when the home you made for yourself in my heart was left to ache without any remedy or closure to sooth it. I wonder what you're doing now days, and who you're doing it with. The thought doesn't fuel jealousy through my veins so much as it does a sense of melancholic acceptance, as I know no matter where you found yourself, it wasn't somewhere I belonged. I hope you're going well, that your same bad jokes and unjustified confidence still annoy yet endear you into the lives of everyone you meet. Getting over you has been hard, impossible maybe, I'm unsure. Years in and my journey still isn't over. But, I know I'm glad that you left. Maybe I didn't accept it at the time, but this space has been healthy. You were a good chapter of my life, a fanciful page I needed to turn to feel satisfied by the storyline ahead. The fan favourite, re-read lovingly on special nights where the comfort of slipping into something safe is needed. I still think about you some days, most days, but it's less than I used to and I'm proud of myself for that. I'd like to think if we ever met one another again, it'd be in passing with awkward small talk and half-hearted goodbyes as our only exchanges - because as much as I cherish you still dearly, some things belong in the past as memories. Perfectly and sweetly, with love.

Date Written: 25th of August, 2023

And we weren’t us anymore

Cole A.

A garden?

A garden?

Gardener perhaps

Or listener .

I see many flowers and their whispers

So much plants to grow and water with teardrops.

I can see the beauty and care.

And the soil it has.

Many songs they sing and sang

Some are dark, some pale

Some have other colors.. some are frail.

I better water them more.

Because season ends

A helping hand

And a garden box

Few drops of salt for you

So i can look at you more

Listen to your bruised song

Your blues, self inflicted bemuse

Until i see the next flower bloom

While i clean the garden with a broom

Perhaps you are a rose with a perfect prose.

Because your petals just rose up

I have to hose your soil and roots more

To see you once again before summer ends.

Nothing else but muses, a place so safe

Like a museum full of plants

And each has their own special chants.

By Marko Tivanovac

Letter #13

I picked up a packet of cigarettes again I needed something that would keep me sane Same old one with the ultra slim filter, fresh burst blue I guess because somehow it still reminds me of you My mind wanders with each deepened breath Thoughts I'd share, if not for your death Would you be proud of me for just being around? Or wished I had done something more profound? With each swift flick to turn on my lighter I enter a strangers bed for another all-nighter I'd love to talk about him with you some day How this love left me a messy bundle of disarray For now though, all that remains is ash Memories torn, our photos left by the trash I picked up a packet of cigarettes again I wanted to feel like I did when I was ten At least I could talk to you back then

Date Written: 18th of August, 2023

Letter #2

I think as humans, we often don't realize the marks that we leave. We're so self-involved and distractedly preoccupied by nature That at no fault of our own, We create a wall between us and our presence. So, it's no wonder that you hurt my heart sometimes. It's never your intention, Or at least I hope that's the case for the most of it. I know I've hurt yours intentionally. Perhaps we're bad for each other, A toxin neither can release themselves from the grasps of. Maybe it's just me, "I'm bad for you." Truthfully, I'm entirely unsure. You feel like you're bad for me. "I don't know what love was meant to feel like, But it definitely wasn't this." Does that thought ever reach you as well? I wonder a thousand things each day, Many miles away from the gazes we share in my mind But there's still this warmth I can't shake When a thought lands on you. This soul nourishing satisfaction, Like existing beside you is my truest form of rest. Even when you're being cruel, Even when we're in the worst of our nights. "I don't know what that is." I know that somewhere Deep inside whatever it is that makes up 'us', There is something that doesn't fit. Maybe there's hundreds of mismatched pieces, thousands even. Something so broken, no altered ego could mend. A part of me has always known we can't last, I understand denying it would cause both of us more pain - It's just that accepting that truth Brings more heartache than any fight. There's a reason neither of us will say we're ready, Surely though, I have to also believe There's a reason either of us will let go, ...Right?

Date Written: 5th of August, 2023

Just some tired, senseless ramblings. Getting tricky thoughts out of my head to make room for some more positive ones.

Letter #7

Seeing you happy still means the world to me But that joy has grown a contradiction "What is a love without it's strength?" "What is a heart without it's flaws?" My love once so unconditionally sweet Gained a rancid taste, bitter and overripe A fruit left neglected for years Such sharp textures for something so contrite I once promised you the universe To this day I would still serve it to you Only my hands are tainted with soil No longer clean enough to use If I love you, I should let you free A true effort to prove my loyalty Yet the temptation of a bird cage Now sounds the kindest to me

Date Written: 11th of August, 2023

Charles Bukowski, "hurry slowly," from Come On In!

Letter #23

On Spring's first morning

I lied down,

Let my feet touch the grass,

Released a year's long breath

And starred straight into the sun

Because if my body will not cry on it's own

Then I will have the light guide me to it

Every tingle of wholeness finally meeting

All combining into one unifying chorus,

"This is the end and beginning of my life"

Nothing else that ever was or will be,

No lover's touch, no teachable moment

Only this, this is it. I made it home at last

Date Written: 16th September 2023

Letter #22

I stood at the beginning of the street My childhood home staring back at me Six lanes of heavy traffic between us A house you haven't lived in for years A house I have tried everything to forget Does your ghost still haunt it's walls Or did you find what you were looking for At the end of all those vices you sought An entire lifetime spent dormantly waiting Patient, silent, without cause for thought For a moment I set memories of you aside Absorbing all the fresh window cracks Every old fern I once planted in it's yard How lively those new neon curtains are Screaming eccentricity is a skill The passing of time is one merciless beast Worse for wear, yet it's warmth still sings With a bitter-sweet smile, I close my eyes Content to know the clock will continue It's a different home now, a new story My presence wouldn't fit there anymore And what a wonderful thing that is indeed Farewell, may we never meet again

Date Written: 10th of September, 2023

It was such an odd experience revisiting my old house.

I was simply on my way to a bus stop from my friend's place and entirely forgot what street I was on. I hadn't expected to see it, until I looked up to turn the corner and saw it there just staring back at me. Good memories, bad memories, mostly things I'd like to forget. All of it came back to me at once and it froze me for a moment. I hated life almost every moment I spent there, constantly in and out of psych wards growing up just wishing I didn't have to exist.. And it felt nice viewing it with eyes that no longer fueled themselves off of anguish. It felt really, really nice. My love for the sweet parts of my childhood will remain eternal, but never in a million years would I wish to go back. I like who I am now, I'm doing well and dare I say I almost feel human for once. The distance is home to me now, warm and forgiving. I'm grateful for the road between us.