My dear all, I wanted to thank everybody for being such a huge support lately. Your comments and feedback mean a lot to me. I need to fly away for a while, so I’ll be missing your new writings and posts, but I’ll try to catch up with all of you whenever I get a chance. Also, I scheduled few posts for this week (thanks WP for this option), so stay tuned until I’m back!
Stay awesome, dears.
I will miss you.

I drop my eyes
to the level of your desperation.
I cannot smile
or you'll know it's not sincere.
Unlike others,
you can always tell the difference.
You ask me
why I'm so quiet
I point at the sky.
Thoughts of you and I
are floating about there,
forming offsprings of new ideas,
but then bouncing off each other,
creating new paths for themselves.
Circles distort,
love triangles become pentagons,
mysteries get cornered
inside these square boxes
like a venus fly trap,
I close my eyes,
fold my arms,
and evaporate
into a feathery river
of nothingness.

- Chatty Owl -


You say you like me unpredictable
and wet –
like an English summer.
I smile
and watch you
watching me
slipping out
of your favourite shirt.

Your eyes adjust to my body,
soaking in images,
and I know
it’s because your biggest fear
is to forget
names and faces.

That’s why I turn around
hide away.

Little dandelion parachutes
fly around my hair
you breathe in
the scent of my past,
saving those evaporating wishes
as they tickle your mind.

Like your body
tickles my imagination.

You open your mouth
to tell me
that you cherish those days
of my juvenile insecurity,
but my eyes are begging you
to not say anything.

I’m just waiting for your kiss.

– Chatty Owl –


I forget names of lovers
and reasons why we got together,
letting my memories fade
into a petal-thin
black and white photographs
that I hang on a fishing rod
and use it as a bait
to attract new victims.

Nothing is more alluring to a man
than a failure of another one.

Patterns on my dress
swirl into never-ending stories
that I used to hear from others,
but anytime I find photos of lovers’ faces,
I’m struggling to remember all the reasons
for our abrupt goodbyes.

I know they were willing to give me
all the lust they had,
but I had nowhere to store
this overflow of love,
so I had to compensate my guilt
with words,
that were untrue,
yet they made us feel better
and by far
less awkward.

I list names of men
that kissed me on my lips
and compare them with the ones
that only kissed my forehead,
(like the father that I never had).
Or the ones,
that thought
the taste of my inner thighs
will make them more secure
what I think of them.

Six glasses of wine
all these words
turned into
a poem,

– Chatty Owl –


A second choice,
a backup plan –
like leftovers, still warm on your spoon,
but tasteless –
good only to keep your body alive,
without any real passion,
that humanity craves so much
(that you crave so much!)
Thats all you get –
substitute of feelings.
You’ve been living off her love,
but there’s none left any more
for you,
just chucked-outside coldness
and pity feelings –
like trash of the riches.
I know you hurt all over
as if your skin is a reflection
of a bruised soul
and I watch you force yourself
to fall asleep like this –
by waking up with a headache,
that seems so soothing
in comparison.
She has done it.
Not on purpose, yet so effectively.

You left your life for her
and she returned to hers –
without you.

– Chatty Owl –


Waiting for seasons to change
is as much fun
as getting your hair stroked
by your own hand –
it’s never as pleasing,
unless somebody else does it.
Naked trees are not the same
as naked bodies,
but it’s all porn to me,
I don’t believe in covering up
that I don’t have for you.
There is no shame
in wanting to forget your name,
but it is unfortunate
to realise
that I already don’t remember it.
(Or maybe I never even knew it?)
just like you never knew
how much I despise flowers in fields
and pots
and vases,
but I smile every time
you attempt to pick them for me,
that’s how much I don’t care
to be truthful to you.
“It’s not fair”, I hear you think
and I have
only one answer to this –
“you’ll get used to it”.
You and me –
never in love.
We learned the words of it,
but not the language
and when you looked me in the eyes
with that adorable look
that whispered how you feel,
I revealed the biggest secret –
it’s not love, my dear.

It’s just another day.

– Chatty Owl –

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