Our faces turn into stones in silence,
faded and white.
Everything, once being my
heart’s light,
is drifting asleep under
your freezing gaze.

I was prepared for pleasure
and got suspended at borders
of your prejudice, iron – carved beliefs,
falling into your maze,
thinking it’s love.

One of those fairy tale ones,
meant to last.
Unlike human made,
and asked to fall apart.
Becoming strangers and rivals
as days are passing by
in unwilling agony.
Desiring the ending,
not trying to mend.
In this farewell hour
our love is
dying snow in someone else’s hand.

©Tatjana Ostojic



A spectral, menacing,
frightened face
of the Moon tonight,
like a virgin tasting her first love.
Fragrant air of blossoming rose buds.
Stones on her necklace,
blinking dance of fireflies,
as her head rests on his shoulder.

Her image mirrored in his eyes.
Embraced, tightly holding breath.
Two swaying shadows kept in secret,
shielded by the mountain,
soothing unquenched thirst
for one another.
Their throbbing hearts,
finding peace in fervour.

©Tatjana Ostojic


I loved you

I gave you home in my thoughts,

kept you warm when you were alone.

I loved you in dead, sleepless hours

and in the thrilling nights

when you’d pay me a visit in my dreams.


I loved the beauty

of your unspoken words,

hidden excitement behind your eyes.

I praised you by every breath that

exited my lungs,

with every shy smile on my lips.


I called you in agony of worthless moments

spent without you,

to find comfort in imagined kiss,

to find freedom

in untamed desire.


I waited for you through pain, despair,

happiness, uncertainty of hope,

while waiting to hear – I love you,

to burn together,

to revive the fire,

leaving nothing but laughter

in the end.

©Tatjana Ostojic


To love you

You are escaping me

like a migrating bird,

looking for warmer eyes

to smile at you,

to love you,

to take you to the sights

you still haven’t seen.

Not knowing

the quickest shortcut

to discovering your own heart

is through my arms waiting to hold you,

through my finger tips hungry to touch you.


I’m protecting

this seedling of love,

its weak roots,

as those of the plant growing

in a glass of water.

It’s easy to kill it and easy to smother,

if left to the mercy of a hardened soul.

©Tatjana Ostojic


Love needs no reason

My heart cannot conceal
its love for you.
It is still able to miss
the memories it no longer
for love needs neither
reason nor foundation
to exist.

©Tatjana Ostojic


Maybe one day

Something in you cannot bear something in me .

The storm we’re in, so far from stillness.

Maybe one day, I’ll understand you better,

in a tiny space between two thoughts.

©Tatjana Ostojic


You might ask

You might ask why I loved you.

For the same reason a child loves balloons;

unaware of how hollow they are,

thinking they would last forever.

©Tatjana Ostojic


In and about Love

  • Written on 20 September, 2016 at Amman Airport.

Even the world apart,
I am not far from you.
I am in your eyes,
in every tremble of your heart.
Between your sharpened eyebrows,
like arrows,
stabbing through your deepest thoughts.

The words of love you’ve spoken
still feed me with the same sweetness
I’d feel hearing shepherd’s reed.
A melodious voice of a lover who is persistent in
loving me less,
hesitant and denying to confess.
For a passionate heart to beat and survive,
just hearing the music
isn’t enough,
when all it needs is to sing, to thrive.

Being without you sometimes feels
as breathing ice.
As being a fighter in a dimmed ring.
The skin I touched so many times.
The love making in sleepless nights.
All a memory, kept in a verse.
I didn’t believe love could disperse
without making a single seed grow,
that longing after you in solitude
would become dearer to me
than being in your arms.

©Tatjana Ostojic



I found my empty heart
in this evening hour we both used to crave.
In fear of my own thoughts
that I have no love for you anymore,
that I’ve become your equal who
didn’t feel for either of us.
How would I?
When love isn’t meant to be lived lonely,
or to be left alone.

When it is softly dark
we can see better,
in the spirit of a night owl,
hungry to know more
in obscurity.
One stolen, uninterested kiss
touching lips,
sour as poison,
yearning for it like flower petals
yearn for droplets of rain.

All heroes are given medals,
but you and me,
after all the
wars we fought.
Our prize was solitude,
question after question,
I have no answers to…
I ponder why’s your love,
just like the ocean wind,
so easily changed its direction?

©Tatjana Ostojic



I feel you on my hair
as the early morning sun,
tingling in between my curls,
tickling my sleeping eyes,
warming my warmth,
trying not to awaken me.

I was dreaming about you, you know.
As I always do.
Smiling to your smile.
Holding your breath in between my lips, not wanting to open my eyes.

It is more difficult for you to pretend having feelings when you don’t,
than it is to me to pretend I don’t have any when I do.
That is why I’d rather sleep.
Not having to think.
Just to feel.
In the sea of illusions  every touch of yours belongs to me.

©Tatjana Ostojic


Un Toque

Te siento en mi cabello
como el sol de la mañana,
hormigueando entre mis rizos,
haciéndome cosquillas en los ojos dormidos,
calentando mi calor, tratando de no despertarme.

Estaba soñando de tí, sabes.
Como hago siempre.
Sonriendo a tú sonrisa.
Conteniendo la respiración entre mis labios,
sin querer abrir los ojos.

Es más difícil para tí
fingir tener sentimientos que no tienes,
que para mí fingir que no tengo ninguno
cuando lo tengo.

Por eso prefiero dormir.
No tener que pensar.
Solo para sentir.
En el mar de ilusiones,
cada toque tuyo me pertenece.

©Tatjana Ostojic


That is how you look at me

He who searches for his beloved is not afraid of the world.
Nizami Ganjavi


Like a child
licking his lower lip
while looking through the window
of a candy shop,
eye-eating sugar glazed apples
that are shining in all shades of red.
That is how you look at me.
With all the temptation
of a child,
wanting to break the glass
and indulge in something he cannot have.

Like the tigress
watching her playing cub
while napping,
covered with sun rays
that are blinding her.
She opens her eyes wider
at every sound,
at every movement of
the trees, air, soil…
Protective. Alert.
That is how you look at me.
Wanting to save me
from all that could harm me.
Preventing my pain by loving me.

Like a lover,
that can have many,
but wants just the woman
he cannot seduce.
Suffering from her scent
and her lusciousness,
exploding through her skin.
That is how you look at me.
By the gaze that strips the
clothes of me,
leaving me standing
naked and vulnerable,
as in the day I was born.

©Tatjana Ostojic



Are you sleeping?

You must be sleeping somewhere,
because the moon
is scarcely visible
in the murk of the twilight.

Everything loses
its splendour and light
when your lashes flop
over the dark circles
below your eyes.
Asleep. Soft.
The fragrant breath
of your dreaming soul
as the date cookies
you ate as a child.

©Tatjana Ostojic



In those days when you were
my scar and my protection,
and our song played loudly in my mind;
For just an instant of the comet falling,
my lips on your lips
erased all memories
of my sleepless nights when you were gone.

You knew our spring was ending
and rainy days were to follow.
You were, mercifully,
surrendering to my love with deception
that elevated me in a dearer way
than the true love of a wrong man ever could.

And here I am.
About to retreat in my aloneness,
my beautifully peaceful garden,
to find shade under my heart,
in the solitude of abundance,
without you in sight.

©Tatjana Ostojic


I wish I knew you sooner

If only you were the one I loved first,
maybe I’d only suffer from not being able
to love you more.
I’d only cry with the tears of joy.
There wouldn’t be any emotion
I’d have to pretend I don’t feel.

I wish I knew you sooner
so I could have loved you even more
than I love you now.
All my memories would belong to you
without me regretting making them.
If only you were brought to my life earlier,
I would have chosen you without it
being a mistake.

©Tatjana Ostojic


To a mother

The first love I felt
in the cradle made of the warmth
of her body.
The first experienced fear
while she was screaming in pain
giving me the chance to live
a life of my own.
She released me with love,
but still in sorrow,
because I was no longer only hers
to treasure and keep.

First food and touch,
first smile and singing voice
telling me softly
that Heaven is under her feet.
A mother.
Divine homeland
where I was given everything I needed
and more.
She is a lifetime blessing
whose existence heals,
whose arms tirelessly love me,
for no other reason
than for being her child.

©Tatjana Ostojic


Keep it short

May the cracks in my heart be
the place where I shall plant my tears
which would rise in blossoms.
If they hit me with stones,
I’m going to throw at them flowers.
As a sign of celebration.
The victory of reason over ego.
I’ve risen above it all,
on the ashes of my old soul
that, as Phoenix, found its way
to light up the Universe.

©Tatjana Ostojic




I’m looking at a shadow
of your profile
dancing on the walls,
wrapped in lights of fire.

I’m wrapped in you.
Melting in your silhouette
and becoming one,
a strange contour of love,
flowing with the wind.

If I close my eyes
I could draw you
on a sand beneath me.
I’ve learned you by heart.
Every pore of your face
lives in my finger tips.
Wherever you might be,
you are always with me.

©Tatjana Ostojic



Is it possible to silence
the mind of a lover
without losing it?
Getting desires fulfilled
might satisfy it,
taking away its peace.

There are no words
that could describe
how loving of beloved feels.
Nor the joy of opening
arms into a hug.

Only the desireless can
see the world objectively,
detached from emotion,
outcome and need.
But what is the meaning of the truth
if there is no love in between?

©Tatjana Ostojic


It will always be You

If I could imagine
a snug place to sleep in,
it wouldn’t be
a bed of feathers,
but the nook between
your shoulder and chest
where my head perfectly fits.

My slow floating hand,
tangled in your rough silky hair,
touching your heart,
entering every beat of it
in my bloodstream.

How perfectly we are created
and accidentally bonded.
Even lines on our palms are the same.
It will always be You…
My pulchritudinous man,
I cannot be separated from
when parted.

©Tatjana Ostojic


To you

It felt like the first light
in the sky before sunrise.
Like the warmth of the body
while making love.
Like the first bite
after long fasting.
Like an infant
tasting the sweetest mother’s milk.
Your look.

The dark, emerald green,
unfathomable eyes of a stranger
I have envisaged in my dreams
when I believed in fairytales.
When I danced to the music of
my heart.
Untamed, innocently wild.
The picture I’ve kept for so long
in my mind
is now standing in front of me.

I don’t want it.
The fear from getting it blurred.
Or lost.
It is safer when I share it only
with myself.
Forgive me, you are amiable
and heavenly perfect.
It is me who carries
the old pain as if it were
a badge of honour.

©Tatjana Ostojic


To be loved by you

Because you love me
I learned to love
and melt evil within myself
into gold.

My love,
I touched clouds and
flew through the thunders
along your side.

And if I’d die
just after one day
of being loved by you,
that would be equal of
one thousand years of a mortal
who’s never felt harp strings
pulled by angels
through the heart.

©Tatjana Ostojic


Lost in Love

The master builder of my fantasies,
the architect of my heart,
adding details and tweaking,
changing and redesigning,
planning without me,
shaping me to fit your vision
of what a woman should be.

Eager to please I submit to your moulds,
your forms, dimensions,
turned into a monolithic figure
I silence my objections because love is the ending goal.

©Tatjana Ostojic



Your hand is silent today
and I’m waiting aside,
as a timorous child
waiting for parental punishment,
realizing in astonishment
I’d rather be hurt by you
than ignored.

The evaporated dream
that I would be adored
became my identity as the thorn is to rose.
It tore me, digging deeper.
Gifting me the more beautiful demeanour
as that of an angel
who’s lost her wings for the sake of love.

Drop by a drop of rain will bring a deluge,
unless the dry summer sky
is suppressing the clouds.
But love…
If given little by little,
nobody can feed off its crumbs.
Only a woman who loves thinks a little is enough,
for the one who is precious to her heart,
her eyes cannot see.

©Tatjana Ostojic



Your image

My mind is a room with mirrors,
where occasional twisted
images of you appear.
They sometimes turn
inviting and beautiful,
sometimes repulsive,
infinitely far,
sometimes close and real,
almost touchable.

Sometimes I fear
from my own image
that is still staring at you.
Voraciously absorbing
recollections of your eyes on mine,
giving me shivers
and the power to lose my heart all over again.

The image of you…
A source of my great thrill
and my great agony.
The same face that inspires
the abundance of different feelings within.

©Tatjana Ostojic




What is love but a word?
A feeling roughly concordant to fear?
A fantasy that breaks through
the heartbreak
and endows the defeated with bravery?

Nowhere to be touched
or explored,
not here and not in distance.
It’s just a tingle that overflows my brightest dreams.
Am I wise or simple minded to believe
that non existent evidence
is not an evidence of non existence?

©Tatjana Ostojic


An infinite source of Love

How desolate our hearts become
when we don’t have anything
to shed tears for.
Love never dies.
Not even when it’s gone,
for lost love is still love.
All the grief and despair
left in our souls
are just pieces of stones
we throw,
stifling our capacity
to unfasten the safety belts.

I don’t want to curse the moment
you were taken away from me,
because in my suffering
I became an infinite source of Love.

©Tatjana Ostojic



The horrors of love
that open the gates
of the walls of the hearts
unequipped for love,
unprepared for loving,
bravely and cowardly
facing the beloved
as an enemy
who would rob them of dignity,
deprive them of sanity.

Escaping reality
by crushing the facade
of the untouchable
leading to fear
of not being heard
when we scream,
of not being enough
when we crave the person
who has conquered us.

©Tatjana Ostojic


It doesn’t matter

It doesn’t matter you aren’t here
when you are in every line that is penned,
in every stroke of the brush.
Whenever I want to paint the ocean waves,
the canvas captures the light of your eyes.

It doesn’t really matter you aren’t here.
The raindrops are keeping you alive
through the forests that grow.
Wild, untamed and unconquered,
as your wandering heart.

©Tatjana Ostojic



The life of Love

Explosion between the two strangers,
collapsing of the barriers,
becoming intimate and known,
silent in wistful mourning of those who are still alone.
That’s how the love is born.

Once there are no more obstacles to overcome,
no sudden closeness to achieve,
the eyes open the windows to deception and lies,
when two closest hearts become strangers again,
that’s how the love dies.

©Tatjana Ostojic