Tag: memories

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ABOVE THE GROUND

A hundred thousand feet
above the ground,
and all I can think of
is your arms,
full of me.
I was marking days in a calendar,
awaiting that moment
of our half-full glasses
making an overflow of feelings,
but now
I’m drinking myself stupid
and my glass
is always empty
instead.
Yes, they say
that
time heals all wounds,
but I’m self-harming myself
to oblivion,
making the irony sweet
and
the sarcasm sweeter.
I’m re-reading your letters
as others try to decipher my moods
and palms,
and even the remains
of my old coffee.
I leave them all
blank-faced and confused,
because
I hide it so well.
A hundred thousand feet
above the ground.

– Chatty Owl –

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NOT TODAY

Messy hair
is just a fracture
of a true mess inside your mind,
but like a careful guide
you beckon my body
to follow yours.
It’s a dance
with no rules,
but so beautifully in tune
to a perfection.
We always are though, right?
I chew
like a dog on a bone
these muffled words of yours,
as they leave your hollow mouth
into mine.
I’m sucking dry
the drops of your attention,
but somehow
leave you wanting me
instead.
I don’t write about matters
of my own heart,
‘cos I dont have one
and love affairs
always end
in the same way
as does my impeccable acting –
like a proof,
that I can lie
so well.
But not today.

– Chatty Owl –

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AND SO IT GOES

I pay for my sins
in a currency of torn connections
and
the faded colour of your closed eyes.
The ones,
that witnessed all the nasty cravings
and imprints
on the non-tanned skin.
It got chased
by my red-painted nails
and
the blue smoke.

That’s what made our passion purple –

unlike those ripe emotions,
that got replaced
by immature steps
of selfish needs,
while
my dirty petticoat
reeked of yesterday’s booze
and unfiltered words –
those got lost
somewhere between sheets,
together with broken strands of hair
and
our lawless past.
It screamed loud
in high-pitched tones
of
rightful accusations.
Ours.

– Chatty Owl –

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MILKED

White dented skin,
marked with careful precision
of
accidental wounds.
I look over my shoulder
instead of looking at your face
and it makes it all glamorous
and justifying,
as if I was posing
for that perfect picture.
Your salty fingers
end up invading my mouth,
stopping me
from screaming out the truth,
so what you get
are forced, silent lies.
Deaf
to the sound of ill-coloured heart
and blind
to the pale indifference we both share,
we let our exhaled breaths float
in the night around us.
I strike you as cold,
but it’s just that
I don’t like crying
over spilled milk.

– Chatty Owl –

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MEANS TO AN END

Lack of sleep
turns into lack of tolerance
I have for you
right now.
My restless body
moves under pale shadows
of these warm sheets
and I eagerly attempt to ignore
the approaching morning
in order to forget
that
my sunsets are the colour of your heart
that got violently pierced
by skyscrapers
of an unfamiliar land,
where I fly
high,
above the first glimpse
of the London dawn
to steal your sky away,
just like I took your heart
that day
on a journey to nowhere.
With me.
I teased
and left you wanting me
a little bit more
than you did two minutes ago,
but it wasn’t enough
to make you lose your mind,
all because we both know
I made this choice for us
on purpose
and
spoiled the taste
of my imaginary whispers
and kisses on your mouth
to stop us moving forward.

Addictions require dedication
and I don’t like commitments.

– Chatty Owl –

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FLY HIGH

Stop.
Frozen bodies around us.
Touch.
My hand in yours.
Warm.
We are still warm.
Beg.
To stay this way.

Simple toys of paper airplanes
give me hope
that dreams fly at the speed of a thought –
light enough to be a breath
on a steamed mirror
that reflects you
next-to-me
and not the other way round.

– Chatty Owl –

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I MISS YOU

Your silent words,
sealed lips,
like an envelope of a letter
I’m dreading to open.
You gift me with a quiet torture,
an abandon treatment
and I know,
there is only an empty sheet of paper
inside.

Withhold the sentences
and words,
and cryptic letters,
forget the exclamation marks
that turn to
questions,
forget the signatures
and crinkled corners –
I’m holding this,
that’s nothing more than pile of dust –
imagination,
wishful thinking,
a gust of wind and whispers in the grass.

I thank you for nothing,
yet
I have to thank you.

– Chatty Owl –

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PEAR-SHAPED

You put words in my mouth
instead of placing fingers
there.
I let screams of anger,
when I should be shouting curses
of
ultimate pleasure.
Loud screeching noises
and
sounds of carnivore hunger
get mixed up in my mind,
while fading away into the fog
around us,
and like a sadistic siren
I enjoy
every single moment
that crows spend picking
on your heart.
I
should be burning your tongue
with mine,
but instead
I’m burning memories of us,
because scattered ashes
is the best way
to end it.

– Chatty Owl –

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REMINISCING

Dirty taste of wet water.
Don’t remember all the sins I committed,
but
I still dip my toes and run my fingertips
in a shamefully disguised surprise
about
how sinister my past is.
You used to pull my hair
as I pulled myself up from my knees –
the electricity was so buzzing
between us,
that our bodies lost connection
and died
electrocuted
by each other’s sin.

– Chatty Owl –