MAGNETIC

I have a question for you, my lovelies. The other day I had a conversation with a my very dear friend and it got me wondering. Do you approach a person that suddenly took your fancy somewhere? Are you ok at approaching strangers and letting them know that he/she caught your eye? And if you don’t, why not? Or if you do, what is usually the outcome? Just some opinions needed… I’d love to hear some interesting stories!

DELIBERATELY

I wait.
I pace.
I trip over my own shadow,
(deliberately),
because I want to find a reason for the pain
that lives inside me.
Memories about you
fade,
but not my anger,
that’s always present,
digging in,
like the bleakest night in arctic.
I sip cold coffee –
a reminder of those long evenings,
when you weren’t here,
and
I want to dilute my drink
with hot, salty tears,
(deliberately),
just so I could feel
some sort of taste
in this room of total confinement.
I want to hate you,
but I’m afraid
that’s too strong of an emotion,
so I just continue
to long for you,
(de-
li-
be-
ra-
te-
ly-)
because it’s more self-destructive
this way.
And i like it.

– Chatty Owl –

TRIPPING

Poet's Corner

Eyes. Closed.
Mouth. Not.
Neither are legs.
Hands. Locked.
Together with yours.
Above us.
Smells. Intensified.
Movements. Quicker.
Than the heart rate.
Lover-like. Affairs.
Animal-like. Actions.
Us. Lusting.
Over each other.
With no. Happy end.
To finish off. With.

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TWO SENTENCES

Once
I had the urge for you,
similar to that feeling you get
after a night out,
when all you want to do
is get home
and be comfortable
under the warm covers,
except that
covers are always soft
and I turned harsh
on you
right now.
I despise
how your tongue
forks out lies
in a form of honey-glazed words
and how your mouth
turns into the shape
of the infinity,
as you disguise your mistakes
in candy-coated letters
as
I eye you up,
and my sympathy
turns into anger,
which turns into inspiration,
that I’m not gonna thank you for,
because
me opening my mouth
is only good for other things,
and they surely
are not
please’s and thank you’s.

– Chatty Owl –

I KEEP ON DREAMING

Carefully placed fingers
press
against the pale shades of my skin,
that shivers in silence
and only evaporating heat
can be heard
in the still hours of this darkness.

Accidentally visible shadows
on the light blue wall
touch each other and
dance
to the music of their own movements,
forcing you to look up
and me to observe
– us –
in the form of faceless reflections
that are black in colour.

Your lips purposely sting mine
as I touch you
with a kiss,
which forces my crossed legs
do the opposite.

Trip over me, so we have a reason to touch.

– Chatty Owl –

TRY AGAIN

I remember
all burnt dinners and skipped breakfasts,
because you couldn’t face us
being in separate places,
so we stayed in bed instead,
counting.
You calculated days
that
we still have left
and I
summed up echoes
of those memories we had.
Numbers didn’t match,
but I knew it was because
our minds
were so pathetically different.
They still are.

– Chatty Owl –

CAGED FRIENDSHIP

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Words of apology
hardly ever leave my mouth.
Guarded
by the maze of embarrassment
and tunnels of arrogant vanity,
they stay right
where
they (don’t) belong –
inside.
(Like your body parts
inside me
in the morning).
I like to wonder
about
what colour are your thoughts
when you think about me,
but then…
does it really matter?
I’m not your friend
any more.
Friends
are for when things go wrong
and you need a shoulder
or two
to cry on.
And lovers –
for when one is happy,
because
there is no better way
than to share your joy and money
with someone
you’re attracted to.
I’m not your friend,
because
you chose
to share your happiness
with me.

– Chatty Owl –

LOVE OF AN OWL

You have such a talent!
A talent?
A talent for what?
Anyone can ramble away
in bitter words,
but that’s not a talent,
it ain’t special.
It takes more
than a sarcastic comment
to be a poet
and
I’m just a blabbering owl,
who saw a chance.
I told
way too many men
that I love them –
they never questioned how much,
so I just shushed
about the quantity
and fingered
words in sand
of a pure lie –
“I love you”.
They ran to me,
led by an instinct,
like little kids run to their mother
in need of reassurance
and
indescribable momentum,
except the fact
that
they weren’t children
and I had no intentions
of directing them
away.
Those stories ended
before they even could begin
and I never cared enough
to explain
why
I never bought them
Christmas presents.
There is no such thing as Santa
and no such thing
as the love of an owl.
Judge me tomorrow,
today we are still pretending
to be happy.

– Chatty Owl –

SHORT AND SWEET

You’re here,
but you don’t want me.
You write long-winded words
and pretentious sentences,
waiting
for someone to take your bait
and pay you back
in three wishes
of African gold,
but let me tell you,
my dear,
bait is bitter and gold is cheap,
compared with a fact,
that
my biggest inspiration is anger
and you inspire me
a lot
lately.

– Chatty Owl –