I Do Not Want A Conditional Love. I Will Not Be The Girl Who Is Only Loved When It Is Convenient. I Will

Letter #4

It rained in my head for years But look at all the flowers that bloomed from it As they grew I thought of us Our resilience created such beauty Now, as they come to wilt I find myself thinking solely of you

Date Written: 7th of August, 2023

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

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 #27

How many wounds can a human body take Before it inevitably falls into ruin? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions, perhaps? As my wrists join my shoulders, Join my torso, join my chest, Join my ankles, join my toes, Join my neck, join my back, Join each and every lasting scrap Of what remains to be my face Dripping at an ever rapid pace I guess time shall try the test Seeking battle to heal it's best Before my demons rip me of all flesh A bag of bones in wait to be refreshed Sunlight, their everlasting summer At last red no longer the only colour I do not know which side I want to win I only know I no longer feel the hands of fear Only numbness and a longing for the air To hold every inch of me it cannot yet reach

Date Written: 23rd of September, 2023

Note #9

Experiences may have lended their wisdom, Taught me how not to be like that monster. It's true I have gained new vision, however; My trauma did not make me stronger. The lessons it taught were too strict, Turned me afraid of being a bother. Yet you will not hear me faulter as I say; My trauma did not make me stronger. It left me beaten, battered and bruised, Now left to walk with poor posture. Please stop telling me time will fix things; My trauma did not make me stronger.

Date Written: 13th of August, 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

“It’s about who you miss at 2 in the afternoon when you’re busy, not 2 in the morning when you’re lonely.”

— Unknown

(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 #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 #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