They all take me
in little portions and big gulps.
The fights for attention
end up
in loud noises and broken bones –
Greedy hands and
sugar coated sentences
melt right in my mouth
and all I want to do
is spit them all out
and forget the taste
of attraction
they have for me.
I envy
happy lives of others
and secure doors to one’s future.
It smells like jealousy
tastes like self-pity
and thats the worst
they could have done to me.


are the least romantic days of the week,
but Tuesdays are the best for tears,
and thats all I’m gonna do today –

– Chatty Owl –

21 Replies to “TUESDAY”

  1. Well said Ladies! Nonetheless, Neruda knows his craft if you compare him to anybody!

    And Owl, probably “Saltiness = credibility” to you. ๐Ÿ˜‰
    As I said before, it would be interesting to see you write in the treacherous land of the incredible


    1. I must say, I used to find Neruda terribly emotional and not bitter enough, but I can see why my ramblings could remind you if him, haha. Well, I’ll take it as a compliment either way! ๐Ÿ™‚ x

  2. In the center of the earth I will push aside
    the emeralds so that I can see you—
    you like an amanuensis, with a pen
    of water, copying the green sprigs of plants.
    What a world! What deep parsley!
    What a ship sailing through the sweetness!
    And you, maybe—and me, maybe—a topaz.
    There’ll be no more dissensions in the bells.

    There won’t be anything but all the fresh air,
    apples carried on the wind,
    the succulent book in the woods:

    and there where the carnations breathe, we will begin
    to make ourselves a clothing, something to last
    through the eternity of a victorious kiss.
    -Pablo Neruda

    1. Yes Rosh, Neruda is extraordinary, he manage to pull off a romantic driveling of words, so you get chills down your spine and warmth in your heart.

      Yet, please don’t cry little owl!
      My spirit scream in urge to snatch your sorrow and run away with it. Jumping from ice floe to ice floe, scorch the skin of my feet by the burning coal of Gehenna, all the way to the edge of the world. There I drop it down the drain and conjure, warm cups of tea, sweet treats and a prince whose arms, gently hold you near. And for every tear that you exchange for a smile, I give you a wish and a lovely life.

      Snip snap snot, bibble bubble BOOH!

    2. There you go – Neruda again. I think he lacks anger and bitterness, but maybe it’s just me that wants everything to be salty. Haha.

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