"Owls are not what they seem"
I know you miss me,
I feel your thoughts on my skin –
they descend like a bird
with a broken wing,
in need to find a long-lost home.
I am quiet
and tell you nothing
about other visitors making nests
in the coldness of my hostile arms,
because I don’t want to rush you away
too early,
before I’ve got a chance
to see,
if you will sing to me again,
once healed.
– Chatty Owl –
You play the victim,
but all I see is an abusive coward,
that murdered my mind and got caught.
Words leave your mouth
(that I used to kiss with such a hunger),
and they evoke anger,
because they taste
of a deliberately provoked jealousy in me.
I answer you
in a series of questions,
that leave my heart aching
(and I instantly regret asking),
so I scream,
in order to drown out answers
that you probably won’t dare to even whisper.
You told me,
that she reminded you of me,
but honey,
every man is a spitting image of you,
I just never gave them the pleasure.
Loyalty is measured
by the ever-growing thickness of the rope
that ties us to each other…
and baby,
I’m cutting you loose.
– Chatty Owl –
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 and 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 and like a venus fly trap, I close my eyes, fold my arms, and evaporate into a feathery river of nothingness. - Chatty Owl -
Clouds lick my skin
with their wet tongues
of raindrops,
and I watch pages of my book
transform into sinking boats
of black-on-white paper.
They say the air is the freshest
after the storm,
but I don’t need a reason
to be calm,
unless I’m around you –
a gambler of life.
Like a cowboy,
who walks on dust
without leaving footprints.
I have such an urge
to spring-clean my mind,
to get rid of all the cobwebs,
forgetting about
The spilled milk.
The soiled soul.
And the reason,
why I still write
with the scent of you
on my skin.
I lick raindrops
off my bottom lip,
as if you were wiping your kisses off
and only then I realise –
it’s
still
raining
and
I’m
wet.
– 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
that
it’s because your biggest fear
is to forget
names and faces.
That’s why I turn around
and
hide away.
Little dandelion parachutes
fly around my hair
while
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 –
Kisses - they don't cease to stop. Minute after minute, until dark coffee from my cup turns into your drink now - from my mouth. We are exchanging glances, but I wish to be swapping fluids instead. Shame seems to leave the room and all that's left is pure attraction for each other. Instincts of carnivore. My mouth is warm with your fiery words, our hands are full of each other, and I can't stop asking, if you really love me. - Chatty Owl -
Yes.
I eavesdrop,
and like a bird of prey,
I watch you from afar.
I sieve your glances
through the filter of my liking,
making judgments,
wondering,
if I’m still present in your cup of tea.
I know how you take it.
Still.
Your day is beautiful with chaos,
while my mind is beautiful with you.
I feel my thoughts leaving
my
fingertips sometimes,
in a form of hasty written words,
but I never regret those escapees –
they have been held prisoners
for so long.
I’m invisible.
Untraceable by your senses.
I undress my soul for you
as I watch you reveal your body.
We are naked,
on opposite sides of the fence,
that none of us erected,
so in a way..
we are both
within the reach of a hand,
yet unloved
by each other.
– 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.
Sometimes
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
about
what I think of them.
Six glasses of wine
and
all these words
turned into
a poem,
that
you
wont
read.
– Chatty Owl –
I’m not the one to make my eyes melt into tears, while thinking about the past, but sometimes I sit back with a strong whiskey in my hand and remember those moments, that made my lips curl up in a smile. The drink burns my throat the same way my mind is burning ties to all the men I used to know. Or fuck.
Moonlight Sonata was always this one melody that made my eyes well up. In a happy way. Every time I listen to it, my whole body is flooded with an unexplainable inspiration, with an urge to write, create, do anything but ignore. Once in a while I’m reminded of this masterpiece (usually by accident), but it makes me smirk, remembering, how I learned to love it that much.
It was a long time ago. There was this boy, who fancied my green eyes, enough for him to stalk out little personal details about me just to please me. He was such a talented little fucker and his fingers created magic with the black and white keys of the piano. I was never the romantic type, but he managed to persuade me to stay on the phone with him for hours and hours one warm summer night, while I listened to him playing Moonlight Sonata on the loop.
It was magical. As were his fingers inside me the day after and his heart in my hand a while later. I was touched by his purity and devotion to please me, but he had to pay the price by watching his loving heart being shattered to pieces.
The Moonlight Sonata is one of the most beautiful memories I have.
– Chatty Owl –
Today.
A day, marked in my calendar.
Anticipated, waited, dreamt of.
It had to be the day,
when your arms and hugs
were my only clothes
and
your kisses was the only thing
I eat.
Today.
My hands had to be resting
on your hips
as I try to reach your heart
with my words,
whispered in the air…
Today.
It’s the only day
of a painful reminder,
that the only thing
that makes me dizzy to the core
is not your scent,
but cheap red wine
inside a glass
I cracked this morning.
– Chatty Owl –
CHATTYOWL 