"Owls are not what they seem"
I refuse
to turn half way to meet your eyes,
and that’s the side of me
you haven’t seen before.
I’m not the one
to offer compromises,
baby.
I watched you from afar
longer than I can remember,
and you never noticed,
how I learned your movements
by heart.
You’re predictable.
And that’s what makes you…
vulnerable.
I smile to false-convince you,
that my naivety is genuine,
but darling,
you just don’t know what I know.
– Chatty Owl –
Elevated and provocative.
Exposed.
Carved in stone
and burnt in wood.
You are preserved
in every single element of life.
They name you,
yet not applying labels,
and you’re the benchmark
of their beginning and the end.
The paths they take,
it’s all a reference to you –
their dedication is immense.
Erotic.
Blind.
They take their steps
to match your shadow,
and their spine
is in the perfect line
of your bare shoulders.
They wish for that long-waited cross,
a new-breed of human.
You know they think of you
As someone godly.
Are you?
– Chatty Owl –
They look at you
and your clothes tell a story
of last night.
White shirt
with
strangers hair all over it –
it’s like the last straw
to their tolerance.
To your innocence,
that you lost
at the same time
you lost your mind.
(And clothes).
Thin stitchings of dignity
got ripped
as you were sitting on the lap of a stranger.
See-through tops
and
see-through minds
mesh together into a thinning net,
that sets such a strong foundation
for new victims to be caught
and savoured by your lips.
Your shoulders move
in the direction of their gazing eyes,
and you can tell,
that slowly
you are twisting
every
single
one of them
around your fingers
and your toes.
Count them.
Give them names.
You’re famous after all.
– Chatty Owl –
Today I was catching up with my reader after being away for a while, and I came across this post by my dear friend Paul and it triggered me to write about this.
Sad as it is…
Your destructive beauty
conquers every muscle in my body.
This masterpiece of what you are
reminds me of a fragile flower –
the subtle curves
and ever-changing colours…
Just like a swarm of stinging jellyfish,
that hypnotise my soul,
I’m forced
to aimlessly devote my mind
to a fruitless hope.
You’re fatal.
Like a stunning woman.
All evil things are blessed
with being pretty.
– Chatty Owl –
I’m two steps ahead of you,
and I already can’t remember
what it feels like
to be there,
where you are now.
You point towards the ground
and ask me
to walk a mile in your shoes,
but my dear, I say,
I have my own shoes to worry about,
as I speed up,
leaving you and your shoelaces.
– 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 -
Pale fingers running
up and down my legs.
Soaking up
my tanned skin.
Your lips on mine.
I want them to be lost
in a maze of kisses.
For eternity.
Infinity.
A horizontal figure of eight.
Like me.
On that table.
On my back.
Inappropriate thoughts
is the most natural thing
right now.
With you.
High heels during the day.
Barefoot at night.
In love by morning.
– 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 -
CHATTYOWL 