Tag: poem

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THE MOMENT

I watch the rain
kissing the other side of my window
and wonder,
if that’s how you feel,
when I touch you,
having another man
on my mind.
You know,
as if my hugs
were wrapped in a plastic sheet
and all you can feel is
the artificial warmth.
Is that what it is for you?

My dry lips
are screaming for water
as I watch those droplets
going south,
teasing me with their wet presence,
and that’s the moment,
when I realise
that
I shouldn’t stay with you,
on the wrong side of the rain.

– Chatty Owl –

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ILLER

Vertical shadows stand behind me
like cyclopean statues,
as reminders,
that we are always watched
by the eye.
Eerie rendezvous of the night
become
an obsessive addiction
of the mundane daylight
and we sigh over dreams,
that we wasted away
so
carelessly.
You and me
are becoming
“iller”.

– 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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YES, I’M DRUNK ON LOVE

My open mouth
swirling words,
spitting abuse and
words of fucking love.
Slick hugs
feel
like an obedient canary
singing praises –
raises –
ups and downs
of these nightmares.
Your lips
with the taste of lazy nothing,
aroma of a bird
(with wet feathers)
on you,
under,
on top of
me
(inside you)
and visa versa –
I’m a plain romance
to you.
With a heart of whiskey,
body of ice,
and
kisses and touches
in the pissing rain.
You call me names you know,
But you don’t know
-ME-
Lolita is my nickname
and
… is my name.
Sweet kisses
and fluttering eyelashes
turn into fans of lust,
waves of love,
winds of attraction,
hurricanes, that
destroy fucking everything –
even red lipstick
and
flawless legs.

Come.
Touch me to death.
To the line of departure.

Before it’s too soon to regret.

Lets.
Now.

– Chatty Owl –

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CARPET BURNS TIMES FIVE

Faint smell,
lingering on my fingers
is a constant reminder
of
those flawless hugs,
tongue-tied sentences
and
over-exposed film
that you used
on me
the night before.
It was black-cat-dark
and so softly purring
when
I came
(to you),
like a moon-child chasing paper
as I tried to stay
untraced
under your skin,
leaving you guilt and memory free
of us,
except I failed
and left
long black hair
scattered on your floor
while
every single carpet burn
now
means
that you cannot forget me.

Try?

– Chatty Owl –

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RAINBOW

You gaze at me,
I gaze out the window
as
we both touch the same wallpaper,
peeling,
but the patterns stain fingers
in different colours –
my green is your no
and your blue is the new red.
Mix it up.
Shake it,
but the results are always the same –
dirty brown.
Like an out of date rainbow.

– Chatty Owl –

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THE MORNING AFTER

You say
my skin is like your coffee –
with milk and sugar.
I smile in return
and we both sieve our own memories
about last night –
you smile and reach for my hand
while
I bury my coldness
in the rising steam from a cup.
I don’t pay for my drinks
and I don’t pay you compliments,
because
unlike my eyes,
my mouth is refusing to lie.

My indifference
still makes your breathing loud
and your heartbeat faster,
and I know
that
you see me as a girl
of
“let me be your man”,
but I can’t let you do that
as much
as I can’t stay here for too long,
so I just leave you
with cups both full
of milky coffee –
I like mine black anyway.

– Chatty Owl –

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THIEF

Clothes. Torn.
Like my heart in your hands.
In pieces.

I scream. Loud to your mind.
To drown the guilt.
We both hear.

Neck. Arched.
So is my back.
To make you want my legs.
Around you.

Are you the type
that falls in love
with taken men?

I am the type
that steals them.

– Chatty Owl –

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FALLING ASLEEP

I fall asleep
to the sound of the clock,
that stopped weeks ago,
but I like hearing things
that are not present for days now.

I drift away
into a sleepless dream about you
and our dreamless sleepovers
together,
where the tone of your voice
is the perfect alarm
in the never-coming morning.

We fall asleep
to my body belonging to yours
and
we never say a word,
when it’s time to leave,
because I hate asking questions
and
you’ve already asked yours.

– Chatty Owl –