"Owls are not what they seem"
I can’t stop
thinking about your words,
asking me to watch the mirror,
as it reflects my own image.
Today
I want to wear
that one thing,
that you like the most –
my devotion.
Nipples, erect.
Soft skin, that I’m touching
as instructed.
Your words guide my hands
to please your mind
via my body.
You know what I want
way better than I do,
and that’s why I’m losing sleep
over the urge
to never stop thinking
about you.
– Chatty Owl –
Like evolving species,
my thoughts progress to only one thing –
you.
Softness of my skin
meets roughness of your words
and we make the perfect combination
of lust.
Nothing is staged,
it’s not a movie,
bodies aren’t perfect,
when they form bedroom figures of eight,
divided in two –
a male and a female –
making a four – well, me on mine.
Knees hold the weight
of years yearning
to feel something more than plain
boredom.
The urge of the body
is the process of the mind –
constantly evolving.
– Chatty Owl –
You
promised me
Carefully polished
leather and direct words
that would make me quiver.
Shivering veins of my naive young
body were promised to pump
lust and obedience – a
substance I have
never
yet
experienced
hands were meant
to be guiding me through
ups and downs of my breathing
chest, that holds a heart –
excited and fast for a
moment like this.
A mental
virginity
taken
away
from
me.
– Chatty Owl –
Suggestive phrases
twirl inside my mind
and you wonder,
if anything I write is about you.
Would you like to know the truth?
My mouth spits out
flirtatious words
at those sensitive moments,
when your eyes melt into tears,
and I have to stop myself
from wanting to wipe them
with my lips,
because the taste of your sadness
is the one
I survive on.
Paper-thin clothes
hide the intrigue
that we are both longing after,
and every time
my curves change the shape of the fabric,
your thoughts start dancing a quickstep
of adult-rated visions.
We both smirk at each other,
knowing,
that one day
it might become
a questionable reality.
– Chatty Owl –
CHATTYOWL 