You grab my chin and force me to look up at you. I know you know that it’s the only way you’ll get my attention.

“I like it, when you are silent and don’t say a word. Then I convince myself that you are listening”, you say.

I want to tell you that you are not wrong. Of course I listen to you. I just don’t hear your words. They aren’t important. But I don’t want to continue this conversation.

“I want you to have a future”, I change the subject calmly.
“I want you to delete your past”, you snap back hastily.

Don’t we all want the impossible…

– Chatty Owl –



Lost in your own thoughts, you were painting in a dimmed room. Clothes, covered in a rainbow of colours – tiny dots of evidence of how you transform your vision onto canvas.

You didn’t hear me enter the room. I watched you for a while, patiently waiting for you to turn around. To acknowledge me.

Grubby hands, the roughness of your fingers and the dried out paint. You grabbed me by my neck and harshly pinned me against the wall, lifting me up off the floor a little. Pure fire in both of our eyes.

I have never been kissed before. Like THIS.

– Chatty Owl –


My dear J was setting a prompt to write about JOY. I must say, it was so damn difficult for me. As you all know, I don’t do happy and joyful well! Well, what came out wasn’t really as joyful as it was inside my head, but J was kind enough to stick it on her blog anyway 🙂 Go check her out and other writings there! She has some sweet sensual guilty pleasures there…..


I remember the green-patterned fabric
of the smoke-enhanced sofa
that we used to spend hours on
in the most horizontal position possible,
and how you told me to ignore
the sound of the pocket watch you had,
as it ticked from seven to eight to nine,
and I knew it’s that time now,
when my face will be buried
in those red-stitched flowers of a thick quilt.
It was like waiting for a permission
to tear the wrapping
off the present
just to find out
it’s not what you’ve wished for.
My mind is good at keeping
little unimportant details about the past.
I remember a frayed label on your black sweatshirt,
and it was the only piece of clothing
that witnessed me going
into a vertical position after a very long time.
You imprinted a permanent habit in me
to always look at men’s shoes,
because you told me
that is the only thing that intimidates them.
if they are looking at you
and craving sex.

It was such a good tactic of defense,
I think I knew all shoes in my city.

– Chatty Owl –


Lack of sleep
turns into lack of tolerance
I have for you
right now.
My restless body
moves under pale shadows
of these warm sheets
and I eagerly attempt to ignore
the approaching morning
in order to forget
my sunsets are the colour of your heart
that got violently pierced
by skyscrapers
of an unfamiliar land,
where I fly
above the first glimpse
of the London dawn
to steal your sky away,
just like I took your heart
that day
on a journey to nowhere.
With me.
I teased
and left you wanting me
a little bit more
than you did two minutes ago,
but it wasn’t enough
to make you lose your mind,
all because we both know
I made this choice for us
on purpose
spoiled the taste
of my imaginary whispers
and kisses on your mouth
to stop us moving forward.

Addictions require dedication
and I don’t like commitments.

– Chatty Owl –


Clothes. Torn.
Like my heart in your hands.
In pieces.

I scream. Loud to your mind.
To drown the guilt.
We both hear.

Neck. Arched.
So is my back.
To make you want my legs.
Around you.

Are you the type
that falls in love
with taken men?

I am the type
that steals them.

– Chatty Owl –


Your words
are stronger
than my own hands,
my fast beating heart
in moments
of a desperate anxiety,
making it
too difficult to breathe
and so easy
to cry.
And I do,
until salty tears
become a
tasteless aftertaste
of the decision
I need you.

– Chatty Owl –


I fall asleep
to the sound of the clock,
that stopped weeks ago,
but I like hearing things
that are not present for days now.

I drift away
into a sleepless dream about you
and our dreamless sleepovers
where the tone of your voice
is the perfect alarm
in the never-coming morning.

We fall asleep
to my body belonging to yours
we never say a word,
when it’s time to leave,
because I hate asking questions
you’ve already asked yours.

– Chatty Owl –

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