there are no more games to play
no more running around in circles
until our heads spun
and our legs gave out
under the weight of our laughs
no more twirling under
the sun at noon
with nothing
but the sounds of the forest
to be our tune

we left it all in the dust
slowly crawling away
inside our under-lived lives
until we were so far removed
from that swirling stream
of long honeydew days
that we could not even remember
how it felt to run barefoot in the rain

staring at screens
blinking at lights
we blur the lines
of maps and flights
maybe it's time
to chase some kites

jump in the lake
release our hair
shrug off
the constant stop and play
swim through the night
dream away the day
I think we must be
such a cliché

I am an invisible woman
inside a circus tent
- a ghost of a clown
who lost her nose
fading into red
weighed down
by words unsaid

I am a clumsy dervish
whirling
a tumbling blur
forever restless
like a wild curl

I am a shadow
when need be
a wallflower
a hidden bower
protecting me

I am your mirror
your frown
your smile
I am your window
as you are mine

The Danube was moody that night
- stormy and loud and rowdy
like a happy old drunk

we walked side by side
and counted the stars
exploding in the sky

we were young
and we were new
and the air felt like fireworks

I wore a frilly skirt
and a silly smile

you wore your dinner jacket
with your grown-up tie

and we danced to the music
across the ripple river

while Belgrade woke up
all around us
with whispers and sighs

I'm going to smile
myself silly
I'm going to jump around
and shake my hands in the air
I'm going to slide
across the floor
in my fuzzy socks
and I'm going to
read Shakespeare
really loudly
and I might just
let my fingertips
make a smiley face
on a foggy window
of a bus leaving
to a new place
and I'm not going to wish
you were here

walking away
in my new boots
boots stiff and cheap
but they will keep
some of the cold away

wishing the past into the now
wishing the mornings
with the shades drawn
wishing the cuts
in the sharp grass

running barefoot
running with our cares
on our shoulders
- old friends
not heavy at all

long desperate journeys
unfold in the mist
curving looping roads
tangle and untwist
searching for a lover
like lips never kissed

must we always hurt
for the things we missed
always adding hopes
to the bucket list

yearning for the times
that might never come
for summers of honey
for autumns of plum

hoping for rain
in deserted towns
picking through the ruins
and losing our crowns

greeting the morning
with spoonfuls of sunshine
in our bitter teas
we smell the earth
beneath the boots
of endless steps
rain filled
feeding the roots
of walnut trees

crushing daisies
between the pages
capturing breaths
in fishing nets
we glint in moonlight
silver and slight

there are grim reapers in the park
their phantom breaths a sick breeze
on the bank of the stormy Danube
murmuring in mutinous trees

people wearing coats
too warm
too bright
buying bread and cigarettes
placing bets

guessing which city
is due to scream today
and then heal
all over again
because
that is the way
- that's always been
our way

wherever you are
I hope
you're warm
I hope there's food
good food
poppy seed strudel
and hot tea

wherever you are
I hope
there's laughter
in the morning
under covers
when your foot's
peeking out

wherever you are
I hope you
have that coat
with deep pockets
and some holes
not too big
I hope you wear it
when it's chilly out

wherever you are
I hope
you are free
your crow hair
forever dark
tricksters on you trail
never catching up

I've been saving my smiles
for stormy skies

for umbrella days
and rainy eyes

for chocolate kisses
and cherry pies

for Turkish delights
and lullabies

for mists and dews
and seagull cries

I've been saving them
for our blue goodbyes

dark whispers
boil inside our violent skies
icy stars plummet and crash
- is there a place
where we can stash
the last supply of sun?

my brittle bones
are cramped now
slinky and snug
like a clinging dress
ill-fitting
but too pretty
not to wear
your footprints
suspended in the empty
echoes of the city on your trail

my hand holding your hand
a perfumed secret
sprouting whispers
which bite
like thorns
and jagged bones

our souls
two hummingbirds
in frightful flight
with wings fast
terrified
ready to ignite

he taught dead languages
with a passion
that made her so alive
- ancient dawns
across new skies
syllables rhyming
in the dark

creased pages
corners upturned
whispers of pencils
whispers of rains

trailing long fingers
down memory lanes
writing letters
on window panes

You were my professor
and I was your flighty student
and you could never teach me to
think before I loved

You were always so serious
with your frowns
and your sad grey eyes
and I was a swirl
of dancing skirts
and little white lies

You talked with me
and you walked with me
for many winter-kissed miles
and when I felt you turn away
I tickled your hidden smiles

And I want you to know
you were my first place prize

we need a plan
in case of emergencies
and unexpected nightfalls
when the world turns sharp edged
and strange

we need to prepare
for days of pale faces
wet socks
and cold hands

we need to hold each other
and mend each other’s tears
- sowing the untethered buttons back on

we need to let ourselves breathe
when the air is hard to come by
and we need to let go
of stale dreams
that rot away in attic corners
and dusty chests

we need to walk
into the shiny street
wearing nothing
but our best smiles
reserved for Sundays
and first stork nests

I lean my head on the windowpane,
and watch the snowflakes swirl
and plummet to the ground;
your room is warm and smells like Earl Grey tea
and mahogany;
words spill out from cluttered shelves
and pour out of half-open drawers;
I sit in your favorite chair,
all alone;
my brittle fingers,
with their hollow bones,
search for pieces of you,
hidden away in nooks
and corners,
in leather bound volumes
and lingering notes of Bergamot.

The clock is ticking loudly,
like always,
and I sit and watch the door.

remember when
we were Vikings
ice in our eyes
flying on promises
with hearts so wise

crystal mornings
our playgrounds
echoing breaths
those lovely sounds

on cracking water
treading the waves
limbs so strong
no right no wrong

dancing on hot feet
under Aurora lights
help me remember
those wild flights

The river rippled
between my fingers
and it was velvet
and satin
and steel

The day smelled
of old earth
and secrets

that day
when we went fishing
for the truth

And the hooks
glinted in the sun
they were beautiful
and lovely

lovely killing things

You are a vertigo
you are untethered
you're free flying
falling like a
blue blue star

Your secret heart
is a Mariana Trench
and your dreams
are Moon-licked tides

Your flicker-eyes
are fiery candles
dangerous and wild

Would you please
grab me by the hand
and take me for a dive?

butterflies beating
powdered wings
love frenzy
tearing colours apart
- in gardens of summer
there float diamonds
heated bursts
flickering dusts

there we sit
and drink the air
sour sweet
a strange affair

if we collide
will the lies come off?
smudged hues
and sunsets that bruise
might make us change
our tilted views

I was always
an impatient kind of girl
casting impulsive glances
in supermarket lines
drawing you in
with my city-light eyes

you were always
a rebellious kind of boy
a grey eyed reader
of hearts and minds
sharp edged and bold
or so I'm told

crow black hair
an onyx wing
pulling me in
making it ring

colliding in corridors
stuck in a lift
on our gazelle legs
forever adrift

A memory is like a bird
with shimmering feathers
whose colours  you can never quite tell

They glint and darken
in a time it takes
for a bird's heart to beat

Once
Twice
Flutter
Falter

You can smell
a memory

Good ones
smell like mornings
and dews
and fresh bread

Bad ones
smell like wet earth
and wood
and candle flames

And the memories yet to come
tickle and tease
your hopeful mind
with promises of new smiles
and new heartbeats

Once
Twice

Drip
Dropping
Tick
Tocking
Time bleeds
From the sky
A beautiful grey
A half-closed eye

Rain filled fountains
Spill over our shoes
The Moon is a plum
A tender soft bruise

There are little killing words
Hanging on a string
Stiff and starched
They cut and they cling

To the skins of liars
And the skins of thieves
Pretty petty burglars
With pocketed sleeves

my best friend,
plucking grey hairs
from the top of my head
chasing away the cracks
around eyes and mouth
forever eighteen

laughing in the sun
drinking hot chocolate
in the heat of July
painting our lips
practicing kisses in mirrors
over and over again

window shopping for boys
with wild hair
and dangerous smiles
driving nowhere
midnight striking the clocks
all around town

forever eighteen
days stretching before us
an endless buffet
a bursting bouquet
what's a little grey
when my eyes are so full of summer

The river sings
The willows wail
Princesses in castle towers
Growing out their hair
Watching the landscape
Wind-wild and bare

No one coming
Over the bridge
No dancing shoes
That pinch and sting -
Only a comfortable
Weaving of tales
An angry pounding
Of summer hails

And fires burning
Burning through the night -
Are we too old to stop now
Too cold to put up a fight?

the eternity
winks back at us
from the depthless
balcony view
we stand here
holding hands
hoping
we can be new

my purse is full
of ten billion dinar notes
Tesla's face
crinkled and old
not enough to buy
a cinema ticket
just enough
to fight off the cold

the expanse of days
stretches before us
memories yapping
at our heels
do we still have it in us
to make new reels?

when old music
hurts too much
and new one
still hasn't taken hold

when my house
becomes too small
to dance in

when I have
so much to wish for
and too little awake-time
to breathe

then
I would like
nothing better
than to feel
your smile
and the steel of your gaze
on my downcast eyes

and then
and then
you would take me
for a twirl
around the park gazebo
in broad daylight
and we would make
the pigeons fly

green water glistening
in puddles on the pavement

the smell of sawdust
and coffee beans

muffled laughter
behind the curtains

clinging of pots and pans
a dinner being made

TV news and weather report
'Should i carry an umbrella tomorrow?'

a bedtime story
and fresh fluffy pillows

silvery moonshine
on the walls

the only sound is made
by a dripping tap
and the ink stains
on my fingers

we learned how to tread water
in the heart of the city
- swimming through the ashes
of other people's days
other people's ways

we learned how to melt
the last of the scarlet hours
inside a coffee cup
stirring them in like a secret spice

we learned to always water our plants
even that cactus
that doesn't need much watering at all
forever hoping for it to bloom

we learned never to ask questions
learned to paint over our walls
again and again

I love feeling my sins
inside the bones
of my fingers
poised over
the pages of a book
peeking out
to have a little look

I hate hearing
your heart beat
thud
tick
too far away
for me to measure
someone else's treasure
now

my soul
your soul
untethered
yearning to soar
gliding on swan lakes
like Russian ballerinas
and fine filigree flakes
floating down
as the night wakes

Do you remember that day?

That day when ice-cream dripped
down our fingers
and we were so happy

Weren't we?

The day our eyes closed
from the force of our smiles
and our fingertips tingled
and tickled our feather-wings

It was the longest summer
- the hottest in living memory they say

But to us the heat only meant
the days were ours to drink
- endless hours in the grass

We lounged by the lazy river
and you played with the brim
of my big white hat
and you smiled
with the whole of your body

Do you remember that?

It's winter now
and I'm wearing my navy coat
with brass buttons
- like a soldier's
and my steps echo
along your scenic street

I don't even turn my head
when I pass by
your white picket fence

I went out after dark again
to smell the flowers in our garden
the sky was whisper-thin
vanilla scented
cherry sour

and you were still inside
my empty empty
butterfly heart

because
as you know
I was never that smart

I hope you find
that silver lining

I hope you still smile
that crooked smile

I hope you discover
that great design

And I

I will be fine

lounging lazily
licking sour lollipops
and drinking the night
we dream up constellations
black holes
lingering in light

the morning is still
just a distant thought
lost in a lake

on lopsided feet
we lurch and dance
with lemon stained lips
while the silky sky
winks at our lilliputian lives
dotting the beach

color the world
with shiny scarves
fluttering in the wind
as we chase the bus
leaving the stop too soon

pigeons exploding
in the sky
in a swirld of white
and grey
and the sun
beating on us
with his tongue
lolling out
like a yappy little dog
I think we should
chase it

we sit and count
the moments
the drops of honey
in porcelain cups
the teeth we broke
playing hopscotch

the jagged edges
dull now
and the flowers
drowning in tea

your pocket watch
measuring heartbeats
and truths
- a wild metronome
ticking away
the last breaths
of the sonata
in the sun

keeping up
with busy steps
of those
left in the schoolyard
skipping the cracks
and the chalk lines

those honey days
flew by in a swirl
of skirts and ties
dancing drunk
on morning dew

now it's time to wait
for the phone to ring
a knock at the door
creaking of the floor

keeping the keys
was never this hard
guarding the rooms
hollow
scarred

old dreams
are deadly lovers
vain virtuosi
forever tricking
our fickle heartbeats

grand illusionists
hypnotizing lonely souls
feeding on hazy mornings
long gone
all gone now

but who are we
to deny them
who are we
to stop them now
hope has taken root
deep under our house

yearning fingers
pumping sticky blood
swelling like strawberries in May
grabbing lines and hooks
learning to play
a treacherous game
involving hearts and breaths
and whispers of air

crying over spilled dreams
holding on to broken handshakes
I was always just a little mad
a little scared

the fish are biting
and so is the day
all sharp and sugar white
the first pinpricks of rain
dancing in the hay

cherries that taste
like red sunsets
curl my tongue
-a bitter dart
climbing the ladder
was the easiest part

now what do we do
if we get caught
hide in our room
conceal our crimson smiles
run to the river
to wash away the lies

forget our shoes
remember the nettle bites
whizzing by with static
in our hair
I was never the one
to refuse a dare

how will I know
if I've grown old?
maybe I'll just wake up one day
see a stranger in the mirror
wearing my eyes and my clothes

maybe I'll feel it
in the creaking of my bones
when I try to get up to fast
or play hopscotch

maybe I'll forget
what it felt like
to stand in the pouring rain
and feel so full of sun

will you tell me?
will you tell me if
you see the grey in my eyes
and will you remind me?

you ruined
my best dress
spilled the wine
on the snowflake lace
made it blush
made me hush

I jumped
into the rain
red heels
bleeding glitter
on the asphalt
crimson crumbs
to follow home

remember when
we ran wild
in crazy waves of spring
- our Hobbit feet
stomping daisies
in the mud
our smiles
waterfalls of pure
diamond-sharp
youth

maybe we are old now
and cold to the touch
with just a little bit of scarlet
in our white-out hearts

sometimes
in the rain
the echoes
of faraway rooms
drip drop on the ground
cigarette smoke
pinches my cheeks red

I read and cry
fortunes won and lost
at the flip of the page
hearts broken
hearts glued back

your hands
pick me up
from the ashes
of garden flowers
place me
in a new soil
and wait for me
to sprout
perfumed words

he had a palette
of greens and blues
and warm
steady hands
- painting the words
of pastel and cream
on the canvas of my lips

he was always
a good artist
imitating love
to the very last breath

he always read
the last page first
surprises
and deadly games
unveiling in mundane twists
- bookmarks never mattered to him

I woke up rainy one day
with storm in my eyes
my feet already wearing boots

I was ready to wade
into the river
to tear up nets
set by strange hands
break the barriers
keeping the current captive

then leave wet footprints
on the shore
with the wind leashed
by my side
a loyal wolf
dog eyed and only half wild

gliding up
and sliding down
a life full of muddy trails
extends like a coiling cord
a Bakelite phone
hoping to ring

eyes watching
from the window
waiting for your stormy head
to appear from behind
the curve in the road

thinking about all the things
that must be said
then running back
to a closed room
somewhere out of sight