Letter #17

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

Letter #6

"You really hurt me." Fuck, I wish I could say that to you. I want to tell you "I wished you were better" And hear you say "I'm sorry." like you mean it. My love of you is a laceration across my chest Visible to everyone who meets me, Stinging at every change of the winds. It likes to bleed out at night. The kitchen sink is stacking higher, Soon the laundry pile will join. Sometimes I still see your ghost in the mirror, Staring back at me with empty eyes. I guess I'm in another one of my rutts again It just all feels so pretentious and aimless "You really hurt me, but I hurt me more." The truth is a harder pill to swallow.

Date Written: 10th of August, 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

Honest to whatever gods may be out there waiting on me, I love being the big spoon. I love wrapping myself around you as you chirp and sigh in your sleep, an enchanting orchestra of early morning comforts sung from the careful ridges of your spine. I love when you curl into my side in search of safety from the world, assured with no doubts that nothing bad can ever reach you beneath my loving gaze. I love the gentle kisses you'll place down my cheek to my neck as I bring you breakfast in bed and wake you up slowly to the quiet melodies of your favourite song. A private exhibition of love, learnt how to play on my old beat up guitar just for you. And though the duct tape on its sides warps the sound and there is a slight pressure placed on my heartbeat as I vulnerably share such an armature rendition - when you tell me you have never felt more loved, I decide to make a habit of my foolery for as long as these breaths shall last.

Date Written: 17th of November, 2023

Letter #26

She didn't know how to rest yet Hadn't learnt the point of growing up Curled lips and big bright eyes Vein attempts at masking her truth She built palaces with her words Enrapturing swarms with pretty lies Answer "I'm happy" in earnest when asked Naive to knowing emptiness isn't meant to fill If only charms didn't cost her a sense of self When rose coloured glasses lose their hue Tell me, what else is a young girl to do? She'll learn the lesson of life eventually Little by little, day by day, Time will tell every tale that shall come Each rose petal guiding her forward The future will change her pace Discovering what it means to slow down Dream in something other than clouds Her mind knew not of certainty No shining knight, no protective shield Mercy found only beyond towering walls As their creator, she shall soon be their end But refusing destruction beyond herself There is only so much a tender heart can mend A limbo she lives, hopelessly hopeful Spinning until she becomes spun So for now, let youth recklessly take her It's not a lesson you can teach her She has to learn it on her own

Date Written: 23rd of September, 2023

(it was)

The uncertainty was a razor

Perched at the apex of my throat. 

I could never quite tell if it was love

And I suppose that now I will never know.

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 #5

The sharpness traces Gentle and cold Pressure brings warmth, a gasp Purely pleasurable relief Muscles forced into stiffening All while melting to belief "Red is the colour of passion" I tell myself as it trickles down my side Where engravings sing of promises Living life, finally feeling satisfied Guilty yet remorseless "What petal has yet to fall?" So sickly sweet, but is no treat Just a sucker left to crawl

Date Written: 7th of August, 2023

Letter #12

"You deserve better." Cowardness trickling through each word A lie is laced in fickle venom An attempt at some redemption As if you weren't deflecting Off a heart you didn't desire "You deserve better." It did not hurt me because it's untrue It did not hurt me because I wanted you It was accepting what had been left to die When you just couldn't think up an excuse That would make for a better goodbye "You deserve better." How hard did you try to make yourself believe it? Would it have been that hard to admit? I thought with me you'd show your real colour But the choices were grey Turning simple and duller "You deserve better." Did you expect me to shed a tear? Yes, maybe it's true My forwardness might cast a shadow But at least I know how to be more honest Than this a lie on which you insist

Date Written: 13th of August, 2023

At sunset, the foxes come scraping by her doorframe Phonelines caught up in rasping growls each night Faint echos of the past hares reverberate through Escaping from their throats, swallowed but whole Crying out to her; A plead to run, abandon her home "Foxes will only be as gentle as nature allows But the wilderness is violent, unforgiving and cold And you are the warmth chosen to fill their stomachs" Cautioned words come to a total on the rabbit's tongue Before teeth gnaw away through flesh, pooling blood Desperation and child-like innocence lose every fight They cannot satiate feral hunger, for she is small and cute "How lovely you are." The perfect portion, beloved meal Reduced down from a girl resting in her mother's arms To a cake sitting pretty in a baker's front window, malleable At sunrise, the foxes quietly leave. They never took a bite Yet she finds the orange fur taunted on her bedside Arms scarred, pores filled with sweat. Lost of all breath Strung across red soaked floorboards, a vivid reminder Tomorrow they will come again at the moon's first light And slowly, without urgency, left in her withering silence She will learn to play dead, envying the rabbit's screams

Date Written: 10th of November, 2023