"Owls are not what they seem"
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,
squeezing
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
that
I need you.
Now.
– 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
together,
where the tone of your voice
is the perfect alarm
in the never-coming morning.
We fall asleep
to my body belonging to yours
and
we never say a word,
when it’s time to leave,
because I hate asking questions
and
you’ve already asked yours.
– Chatty Owl –
Hand over my mouth,
like a tale of “speak no evil”.
I should suspend my thoughts
and
put my lusts on hold,
except… I don’t.
– Chatty Owl –
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!
Not you.
I spill.
The drink.
Across the table.
Wet.
Like me.
Not you.
You curse.
Not me.
I smile.
It’s wet.
Me, not you.
You want it.
Wetter.
Me. Not you.
It’s you.
And me.
– Chatty Owl –
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 –
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.
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 –
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 –
CHATTYOWL 