saraknezevic

[saraknezevic]

I think my home was always on fire

but I mistook the flames as a warm embrace and when it burned a little to hard I was told that was love and I shouldn’t complain

s.k

[saraknezevic]

I’m spending my days locked away in a room filled with flowers

and carpets

and wooden furniture

and me only me

I’m spending my days like currency trying to buy myself more time

more time

more time

more time for what exactly I don’t know

maybe I enjoy being locked away in a room filled with flowers

and carpets

and wooden furniture

and me only me

maybe I’m only me when I’m only with me

Sometimes I don’t really like me,

me who spends my days locked away in a room filled with flowers

and carpets

and wooden furniture

and me only me when I only want you

Me who spend my days like currency trying to buy more time

more time

more time

more time for you to chose me the me when I’m with you

I liked her

She spent her days living in a room filled with flowers

and carpets

and wooden furniture

and you

only me and you

So I’ll keep buying you more time

more time

more time

take as much as you need to chose me

but also maybe you should hurry because I feel I soon may be slipping into bankruptcy

Waisting my time trying to buy you more time

more time

more time

leaves me with less time and so I’ve been advised to start saving my days

And the more time I’m saving with me only me

the more time I want to spend on me only me

the me when I’m only with me

because if I give myself more time

more time

more time

more time to heal then maybe I’ll start to like her

maybe I’ll start to enjoy being home in my room filled with flowers

and carpets

and wooden furniture

and me

only me

- s.k

[saraknezevic]

[saraknezevic]

self sabotage

I painted my heart on brittle glass so if you ever found the audacity to break it it’s shards would slice your roughed hands and leave scars on your skin to serve as reminders that you should’ve never been so careless with something so fragile

But now, I can’t seem to put the pieces back together my own hands are bloodied and bruised from trying so I wont dare give these shards to another I won’t dare let them cut the hands of a man who is far more gentle than you were

s.k

[saraknezevic]

My name is something i do not know

Something i do not own

Something I’ve never shown

I do not ask you to engrave it on your bones

Or to remember and praise and turn into gold

No

I want to tell you my name

So on that day when the sky sings grey and you feel so far away

you can remember

That somewhere in the centre lies a girl named Sara, for whom that tune is also far too familiar

I hope you remember,

The next day that sky sings grey, you can come find me and we’ll hold hands and listen together

s.k

[saraknezevic]

[saraknezevic]

You are all around me, all the time

You’re in the books that sit on my shelves

You’re in the lyrics of the songs I listen to

You’re in the photos hung on my wall

You’re in the words locked away in my notes app

I see you in the warm cup of coffee I drink in the morning

In my 8:30am alarm

In the pair of jeans I wear to dinner

You are everywhere, always

Except for here

You are never here

Not anymore

• thoughtless-art

[saraknezevic]

it is only when i finally find someone else

and feel myself falling for them the same way i fell for you

that i’ll realise how much damage you really caused

• thoughtless-art

[saraknezevic]

[saraknezevic]

I’ll never stop missing him

Not unless I forget about how fucking beautiful it was to love him

But what a shame it would be

to forget something so beautiful

• thoughtless-art

[saraknezevic]

You are not someone I deem important enough to write a poem about

You are without value without meaning in my life yet I sit here still

Words pouring out of me till it all feels a little wrong a little dirty

But sometimes my words do betray me

See my words once said I love you to a boy

A boy that I never really knew but wanted to

And I don’t know whether to blame myself for being so blind or blame you for knowing how to lie so god damn well…

Fuck.

Sometimes my words do abandon me

Like everybody

And so I’ve disregarded my own body for your sanity even though I just wanna scream at you to treat me like somebody that mattered to you

But instead I find myself crying alone in my room drowning in the silence while you?

Well you’ve moved on.

You are not someone I deem important enough to write a poem about not anymore

But once there was a boy who shared your face

And well frankly he is the muse behind every word I say

And maybe this boy was never real just an idea in my head I thought about before bed but I cannot deny the feelings inside my mind see they were real

And I don’t know how I could ever stop writing about that

How he was my person, how a world without him was a world I was lost in

How I spent so many nights fighting the voices to convince myself he was safe to fall in love with

How his hugs felt like my only home

But when that home becomes the dark waters you find yourself drowning in alone with nowhere to go because he slammed the goddamn door

Then those words just don’t sound as beautiful anymore

So I suppose all that’s left for me to rhyme about is the bad

Like the pain of losing something you never really had

Winning a battle with yourself only to to find fake diamonds in your hand

I will never understand but neither will you

Now I find myself more in love with the memories than the person standing in front of me

Good, I think, because you are not worthy to be love by me

But to deny never loving you at all is to lie to myself

And to pretend that you and the boy who share a name are not the same is to save myself

You will always be someone I write fucking poems about

• thoughtless-art

[saraknezevic]

“There will always be a person who looks like a poem the earth wrote to keep you alive.”

— Juansen Dizon

[saraknezevic]

[saraknezevic]

that’s the difference between you and I

you would stop your pain for the expense of mine lasting a lifetime time

and how foolish is it

that I would live an eternity in suffering if it meant that you could have just one day of peace

and maybe that’s why you kept me around for so long

while I made the mistake of believing that was love

• thoughtless-art

[saraknezevic]

and I wondered why does it hurt so much to love you

why does loving someone so much make me feel so weak

maybe it was because I loved you more than you could ever love me

• thoughtless-art

[saraknezevic]

[saraknezevic]

i sat alone in my bed last night, book in hand of course

and as i read its pages i thought to myself ‘you would like this one’

that typical teen romance

friends to lovers trope

painted in colours of innocence and simplicity and joy

and suddenly as my eyes glazed with tears and the words became distorted my mind drifted

and i wished our own story could’ve been like those in the novels

where their hugs always last a little too long

and their knees always seem to find each other under the table

where the looks they share between themselves speak for the words they’re too afraid to say

their eyes always catching each other across crowded rooms

i wish our story could’ve been like those in the novels

but instead our story was inked with a darkness we always seemed to ignore

where the touches we shared causing guilt to ripple through us

constantly reaching out for something we could never grasp

where words went unspoken because we knew that to lose each other meant to die

so we sat in misery watching each other get with people we didn’t really want to

i wish our story could’ve been like those in the novels

i wish loving you didn’t hurt so much

so sometimes i sit alone at night, book in hand of course, and i pretend it is you and i written in these pages instead

but it would be lie to paint our story in these colours

so i’ll settle to call us more than friends but less than lovers