"Owls are not what they seem"
Gullible sounds of city’s bones
crunch under my heels –
it’s powerful.
But so is your desire for me.
I told you many times,
I’m contagious.
Like a yawn,
that travels in waves of unspoken words,
yet everybody hears them.
Sometimes I wonder,
why can’t I hear you calling my name
anymore,
and then I remember –
I asked you not to.
Yet here I am,
thinking about you again.
And wanting to be touched
by your words –
it’s like a challenging game.
And I like playing.
– Chatty Owl –
I expand in your thoughts,
like an overflowing river,
that divides east and west
of the universe.
We were always on opposite sides,
as if someone placed us there
to see,
if we would fight an honest battle,
or just nonchalantly ignore
each other’s presence.
I have this unexplainable inkling
to return to your world
with a bang,
to shatter glasses on your desk,
and become the muse
of your sober days.
I want to seduce
your ability to stay awake
for hours, endlessly,
and I want to wet your lips
with my blood
instead of the wine
we used to share from one glass.
I want to be the secret,
that you have hidden away
under floorboards.
I want to do it so much,
I just don’t know how to.
– Chatty Owl –
My limbs are numb –
your ropes left scars
on my wrists and ankles,
my mind is senseless –
a callused heart,
once pumping love,
now replaced it with hate.
We exchanged words of affection
with anticipation of being happy together,
yet the reality was brutal,
and your hands took more to bruising
than they ever did to taking care of me.
Your fingers pulled my hair
and scratched a branded mark,
as if I was your territory,
when all I wanted to do,
was to feel your warm pulse on my lips,
that throbbed in the rhythm of love.
How naive and submissive I was
to think that desire is measured
in bruised ribs
and the amount of pain I am able to stand.
Like a spider, you crawled on top of me,
depriving me breath,
and when I died in your arms,
it wasn’t a poetic reflection
of love and devotion –
it was the murder of my soul.
– Chatty Owl –
Senses are suppressed,
dimmed like lights in the hallway,
where I often pace up and down –
it feels like stepping into the mystery of your mind,
and very often I feel a need to explore
the more obvious corners of it.
Exposed patches on the wall
usually hold the biggest secrets.
Half-sided pain
acts like a motivation to deal with this darkness,
that slowly falls on me here.
Seized opportunities on the right,
lost chances on the left,
and I’m balancing on a thin line of
now.
You never faced me,
never stood in front,
you always casually appeared somewhere behind me,
as if you were always scared
to expose your scarred soul.
The irony,
because I know
that you can sense my duality
of a fallen human
and a newly-proclaimed mermaid.
Reality is always fishy,
if you scale it down to little details,
and swallow them like vitamins,
believing that if you take life in small doses,
it will not affect you as much.
Bristle chunks of the past
tickle your conscience mad
and get stuck in the windpipe –
it causes you to reach out for me,
as if I’m your only chance to survive –
a supply of fresh air
underwater,
where I roam in my newly-discovered destiny
as a siren –
a creature of the unknown abyss –
someone too slippery to grasp.
That’s why I’m still,
refusing to turn around,
because I can feel the pain subsiding,
which means only one thing –
I imagined you again.
– Chatty Owl –
I wish I was a flat shadow,
reflected on pages of your favourite book,
so you could carry me around,
like an imprint of a flower,
that has dried in the heat of your palms,
preserving all the bright colours
that I am.
How often do I wish
to be this fool of a girl,
that is not affected by her own soul
screaming,
and thoughts, that cause insomnia
and madness from within.
It must be liberating
to be so ludicrous,
so I’m asking you
to turn me into one.
– Chatty Owl –
I miss you
and the memory
that never happened.
I refused an image of you,
because I knew it will haunt me like
a pirate’s curse.
I’m under your spell,
without you knowing.
I’d like a war, a battle,
that’s more feisty than today,
because right now,
I fight alone,
and you are nowhere near this field.
I want to find you
in the crowd of strangers,
at the station,
and fall to the ground
like a descending autumn colour,
to ask for your forgiveness
once again.
And again.
And a thousand times more.
I played my life
as fair as I could these years,
but nothing came close to wanting
to belong to you
so much.
– Chatty Owl –
“You are twisted
and your tongue permanently tastes of cherries” –
you say,
but I just tie cherry knots
with my fruit-infused tongue,
and laugh at your complaints
of my unapproved manner.
You collect seashells and listen to them,
when you get home,
and it upsets you,
when I say,
that you’re listening
to the sound of your own blood.
Circulating.
You bite your lip
and draw some of that red juice,
as if proving the point
that I’m wrong.
Well, I’m not.
So I just carry on
twisting my tongue
around those cherry stems.
– Chatty Owl –
I leave my pretend reality
on the pillow
every morning,
together with imprints of dreams
that I don’t remember,
once I open my eyes.
Inverted minutes of darkness
become illuminating rays
of present light –
You.
I know you miss me,
I feel your thoughts on my skin –
they descend like a bird
with a broken wing,
in need to find a long-lost home.
I am quiet
and tell you nothing
about other visitors making nests
in the coldness of my hostile arms,
because I don’t want to rush you away
too early,
before I’ve got a chance
to see,
if you will sing to me again,
once healed.
– Chatty Owl –
You play the victim,
but all I see is an abusive coward,
that murdered my mind and got caught.
Words leave your mouth
(that I used to kiss with such a hunger),
and they evoke anger,
because they taste
of a deliberately provoked jealousy in me.
I answer you
in a series of questions,
that leave my heart aching
(and I instantly regret asking),
so I scream,
in order to drown out answers
that you probably won’t dare to even whisper.
You told me,
that she reminded you of me,
but honey,
every man is a spitting image of you,
I just never gave them the pleasure.
Loyalty is measured
by the ever-growing thickness of the rope
that ties us to each other…
and baby,
I’m cutting you loose.
– Chatty Owl –
CHATTYOWL 