I sit at the edge of your bed,
watching my thoughts reflecting
in your dreams.
You say I’m a witch
because of all those things
I’m capable of doing
to you and the others,
so I touch your backbone
to check,
if my spell is still present.
We are smoke-free,
the room is all foggy –
like a cloud of a sexual haze
that we can’t colour any other shade
rather then this
sensual drip of a rainbow.
I’m watching you
keeping your eyes shut,
as if wanting to savour
every memory of a dream
that’s running away from you
into the autumn-scented street outside
your bedroom window –
I pinch it with my fingers,
freezing time for just a second,
and when I press it upon my lips,
it’s feels like a deconstructed kiss

– Chatty Owl –

%d bloggers like this: