(it Was)

Instead of yellow paint

Maybe I'll eat bluebells

To caress a midnight sky

Perhaps a poppy-scented saint

Can somehow save my cells

Giving all this weight a soft goodbye

A tulip tastes the taint

A promise that quietude quells—

Spring will someday kiss me with a sigh

Letter #8

My little daffodil, Resting all alone without any sunlight. What's given you that might? How many demons were you made to fight? Do you know there's no end to what I'd give In the mere hope that it'd help you feel alright? Because I'm sat here, chest clenched tight Pleading with the harshness of the night. "If only the stars would give some heed to this weary plight" "If only my warmth through unconditional love you'd requite" Your petals shine so bright, Resting all alone with the moonlight. Always so close to that beautiful, unifying sight But never quite.

Date Written: 12th of August, 2023

Letter #18

Strings intertwined cause friction Somehow prized as this winning affliction So eager to tie our own ropes Yet all I can think of are the breaks and bends They're burning the candle from both ends Cascading wax leaks through my fingertips Is a string meant to melt? To dissipate? Sparks without a pulse to accommodate What a reward to be drenched in oil Awaiting the next pretty flicker of flame To set ablaze every notion of it's fame The tale of a red knot tangled

Date Written: 2nd of September, 2023

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 #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

Letter #11

I will fade away from your life Just like the petals That have outgrown their bloom Softly, quietly Leaving only gentle traces My dear sunflower Thank you for the light Though my spring cannot last forever Your resounding presence Shall never come to wilt As I return to the earth I hope the breeze is kind I hope it carries me caringly across the sea To a land where soils can nurture The dust that has become me May my stem descend to the ground Away from your gazes Beyond the reach of your touch With only one last apology to be given I fear for me this world was simply too much

Date Written: 14th of August, 2023

Letter #30

These shoes never walked a single step astray From the memories of skin in that dingy underway In their wake comes everything I once held dear to say Tightened laces bracing forth through times of "come what may" While you fall on a prayer you wont remember me this way Love, you wont remember me each day.

Date Written: 25th of October, 2023

Red wine.

Bitter red wine.

Traces on lips, perhaps intoxicing lipstick

Dry but soothes the throat

I bloat from a cup

And undress the tender booze

A buzz kicks and i daydream numb

I crumble up the soft voice

Telling me be gentle this time

I smoke a cigarette and i let my friend talk.

I won't be cruel i say

As i drink another sip from a brassy cup

The throat is wet

And speaks less

And mind wants to tear up the silence

A crime scene where blood is in a bottle

Soon in our throat

I bloat again, but this time from a bottle

Hopefully i will kiss you and your unraveled secrets

Just because you are my friend

You need a lever and a helping hand

As i look at you, you seem like walking away.

But your Cognac turns your eyes back to mine.

Don't sweat it, don't sway it.

Just speak up and let's talk it out

Our broken parts.

Our bitter cracks

With a taste own Cognac and red wine

We hit each other with darts, our broken parts.

Let us listen and drink couple more past nine.

By Marko Tivanovac

Stitched holes in my black boots with fishing line Laced in memories of the hotel room we danced in The night you told me this city wasn't yours anymore Yet I would forever be your favourite home Tattered clothing held together by rows of safety pins Keeping the places you touched in tact a little longer So afraid of the day there's one wash too many And the scent of your shampoo leaves for good Duct tape over every seam of my messenger bag Desperate to hold together our long and messy history Carrying the last stray hairs of yours that held on Rested by crumpled receipts from times we'd share Laminated covers over every message you send me Collectors items, reluctantly aware I now have them all Nothing left but to sort them into colour-coded folders You always kept your desk space so well organized Maybe if I add enough paperclips this love wont fly away Just one more day, week, month, year - eternity One last second spent in the moments between us Before you end up in another beginning, someone else's arms Stationary drawers and laundry hampers can't solve this Our chapter was far too short to end where it did We still have strings I need to haphazardly mend And staples for you to punch through my heart With this final paper plane, addressed from me to you Promise I understand not everything gets to last You've grown too much to remain nostalgic any longer Though, I wonder if the sky can ever contain what you're after If we got another chance to do it all over, start from fresh Tell me, how different could our picture book possibly be? Time after time, I swear to you I would be content As long as on each page, remained versions of you and me I would've stuck to you like glue, unwavering, you know? Taping stories together, convincing myself of grand delusion While I wanted to wait for you, it burned when you didn't stay The truth is, we both deserve better than "someday" ... "You and me, someday."

Date Written: 23rd of November, 2023

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