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 –

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 –