preko plive

In the old fashioned, un rest ful way, Bosnia echoes my name with melancholy articulation. And I persist.

life,

i hope you see the want in my eyes,
i am all but green for you and
etc.

dis/en/courage

I know you are well
on experience, a person
must weave her braid,
I know this thread
of hair is meager, but
can't you see
I'm already down.

okay,

let me be a comforting grasp

palming your very still heart,

and open to the mercy of the

box  of  this  childish  poem.

how should  i   encapsulate  

your    intentions  to  come, 

all patient yearning for now

is your adoration solely as i

hold on,shaking you to love

me, as desperately as i you.