"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 –
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 –
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 –
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 –
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 –
CHATTYOWL 