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
I shouldn’t stay with you,
on the wrong side of the rain.

– Chatty Owl –


I enjoy
the sound of spilled water.
Not the one under the bridge,
but the one leaking from the sky
in the colour of dirty milk.
It soothes me.
The taste of it
reminds me of that coral sharpness
that we both feel in our throats
when I get under your skin
you get under my clothes –
I’m always one and a half
steps ahead of you.
Wrap up warm,
my actions sting more
than the white rain outside our windows.

– Chatty Owl –