Tag: poems

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JUNE 7TH

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 –

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VERBAL INTERCOURSE

I hear r’s in your words
and it makes me
somewhat jealous,
that this sound
makes me tremble
with an urge
to feel your wet tongue
inside my open mouth.
Warm
hands
were holding my face
as you whispered sentences
out loud
and I couldn’t stop
sucking
the sweet sugar dew
off your lips,
when they met mine.
Suspended wrists,
ankles tied together,
tease your curiosity
with the deprived view
of all that’s me
and we both
end up
questioning,
why we haven’t done this
sooner.

– Chatty Owl –

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BUTTERFLIES

Sometimes…
No, often.
I wonder,
how do those butterflies
get inside my tummy?
How?
How do they have the power
to lift me up
and let me float
in this dream
with their colourful wings inside me,
reminding…
there were
your fingers there instead.
Once.

Sometimes…
No, often.
I wonder,
how do their colourful wings
mix shades with one another
and then just…
leave me.
One by one.
Until I find myself empty
and
longing for that warm feeling,
just below my bellybutton.
How?

– Chatty Owl –

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TELEPHONIC

This is one more collaboration with the sweet Neeraj. Enjoy!

Dew drops from your trembling lips,
I pick one by one as I kiss
to rub all over your face.
“Suck my kiss”.
“Squeeze my lips”, you beg.
“Make my lipstick melt away.”
Unhook your clothes.
Undress yourself.
Leave nothing, as they slip away
from your skin.
Tell me everything.

Tell me, how does it feel
to be craved in such a distance?
Smudged lipstick
leaves marks on my flipped palm
same way
your words leave an imprint
in my mind.
Brush your skin
against my naked bones
and
whisper to me,
if you like the taste of my hipbones.

Feel me running my hands
all over your wet skin.
Feel it
as I’m embracing you,
like a hot water swathe.
Feel my tongue
all over you neck,
inhaling your aroma
as our hearts race.

As my face goes
in between your thighs,
don’t stop
with your seducing voice.
Hold tight,
when I swirl my tongue,
let the pleasure arise
as we progress towards the heights.
Tell me if it doesn’t suffice.

Open your eyes,
hurry up slowly.
Your skin is burned with words exchanged,
your blood is hot,
the colour of my cherry lips,
that whisper sentences of distant passion –
into nothing.
An empty room.
The sound of disconnected phone call,
ringing in our ears.

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DEAD

20130529-210548.jpg

Your tongue
seeks revenge in my mouth
for what my hands have done
to your back,
when it was held straight
and mine was arched
for you.
My murmur
got stopped
by your pressure on my wrists
as I wiggled my way
under your
sheets,
when you wanted it to be
your life
instead.

(It was in a way though, no?)

You say your heart is weak,
because cracks of the past
can’t stop
those red-coloured liquids
escaping,
and in response
I just give you
my weak knees,
that are failing my body
on your bedroom floor,
and all the colour
is being drained
from my fingers,
that are now turning blue
as you kiss my
not-so-red-anymore
lips.

The end was not
what you expected.

– Chatty Owl –

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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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MIDNIGHT GLIMPSES

It’s been a very very long time I have’t written in collaboration with anybody. But today I want to share with you a poem that I wrote together with ever so secretive Man Behind the Steel Mask. Check him out, some saucy things there!

You get lost.
Inside the beauty of my lies
and
raven black hair.
Tangled.

You get confused.
In the labyrinth of my thoughts
and
pools of my eyes.
Watching.

Come closer.
Hear my breathing get faster.
Watch my eye-lids close
and
my skin scream for a touch.
Rough.

Do not hold back.
Your passions fueling fire
burn me into you
and
liquefy my spirited body.
Fast.

I burn a mark
on the map of your skin.
Inked.
Sweaty kisses were never that
tasty.
For us.

Branded by lust.
Forever embedded thoughts.
Flesh on flesh
bound
caressing fingertip traces.
Ecstasy.

Odours of skin
mix with the sweat of bodies
writhing.
Heat,
exploding from inside,
has never tasted so seducing
off your fingers.

Feeling one
bound by unions of pleasure.
Satisfied.
Loving.
Holding tightly to each
want it all to begin again.