THE MORNING AFTER

You say
my skin is like your coffee –
with milk and sugar.
I smile in return
and we both sieve our own memories
about last night –
you smile and reach for my hand
while
I bury my coldness
in the rising steam from a cup.
I don’t pay for my drinks
and I don’t pay you compliments,
because
unlike my eyes,
my mouth is refusing to lie.

My indifference
still makes your breathing loud
and your heartbeat faster,
and I know
that
you see me as a girl
of
“let me be your man”,
but I can’t let you do that
as much
as I can’t stay here for too long,
so I just leave you
with cups both full
of milky coffee –
I like mine black anyway.

– Chatty Owl –

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 –