Kisses -
they don't cease to stop.
Minute after minute,
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
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 -


I eavesdrop,
and like a bird of prey,
I watch you from afar.
I sieve your glances
through the filter of my liking,
making judgments,
if I’m still present in your cup of tea.
I know how you take it.
Your day is beautiful with chaos,
while my mind is beautiful with you.
I feel my thoughts leaving
fingertips sometimes,
in a form of hasty written words,
but I never regret those escapees –
they have been held prisoners
for so long.
I’m invisible.
Untraceable by your senses.
I undress my soul for you
as I watch you reveal your body.
We are naked,
on opposite sides of the fence,
that none of us erected,
so in a way..
we are both
within the reach of a hand,
yet unloved
by each other.

– Chatty Owl –


Hand in hand
with frothy beer.

Bottle-tops missing
as is my top too.

I squirm uncomfortably
on the sand
as you return the favour.

And I drink
barley juice
out of your mouth.

It’s all vitamins anyway.

Bottomless happiness

your mind,
my body,
our longings.

Deceiving words
chalky food
is a substitute we found content in.

Enrich my world
with oily passion.

Dripping down saliva.

And you will see
“she sells seashells”
of your prickly past.

With echoes.
Not of sea,
but of your sins.

Im topless.
Hiding nothing
but my eyes.

You squirm now,
on the sand.

Withering relationships
sinking ships of love.

Forget the seashells,
cherry knots

Hoot hoot no more.

Im taking sandy beaches

– Chatty Owl –


I miss the colour of your words.
They used to taste like a rainbow,
but floated around
like a nighttime bug
turned to dust when touched
by lips of mine.
I swallowed your abc’s
like a bait –
with an enthusiastic passion.
I daydream about you,
your soft voice
and accent, foreign to my ears –
it’s to die for.
I told you once
and I’ll say it again –
you can read
a fridge manual out loud
and I’ll still get sticky wet
just by
listening to you.
Have I told you
that I imagine your hands
in between my legs,
when I read some
random famous poetry
and I burn bridges to my past,
so that you
are the only memory
for me.
I’ve never met you,
nor I ever will,
but my heart belongs to you.

So does my body.
Come, abuse them both.

– Chatty Owl –


I’m not the one to make my eyes melt into tears, while thinking about the past, but sometimes I sit back with a strong whiskey in my hand and remember those moments, that made my lips curl up in a smile. The drink burns my throat the same way my mind is burning ties to all the men I used to know. Or fuck.

Moonlight Sonata was always this one melody that made my eyes well up. In a happy way. Every time I listen to it, my whole body is flooded with an unexplainable inspiration, with an urge to write, create, do anything but ignore. Once in a while I’m reminded of this masterpiece (usually by accident), but it makes me smirk, remembering, how I learned to love it that much.

It was a long time ago. There was this boy, who fancied my green eyes, enough for him to stalk out little personal details about me just to please me. He was such a talented little fucker and his fingers created magic with the black and white keys of the piano. I was never the romantic type, but he managed to persuade me to stay on the phone with him for hours and hours one warm summer night, while I listened to him playing Moonlight Sonata on the loop.

It was magical. As were his fingers inside me the day after and his heart in my hand a while later. I was touched by his purity and devotion to please me, but he had to pay the price by watching his loving heart being shattered to pieces.

The Moonlight Sonata is one of the most beautiful memories I have.

– Chatty Owl –


You told me,
that my hands are always cold.
Especially my fingertips.
I blamed it on the weather
the foggy air of moody London,
but we both knew,
this is just how I am.


You tried
to cunningly defrost my soul
and make my thoughts
all thawed and leaking water,
all it did,
was built defences higher
and suddenly
all doors got shut.

A heavy weight of a padlock.

You questioned everything
that popped into your head –
sincerity of my moving lips,
the truthfulness in my eyes,
the husky voice
and my motives.

True or false.

I played with strands of my hair,
to compliment
my misleading nervous answers,
while your orders
got more strict by a second,
creating waves of insecurity.
We played a game,
all back and forth,
tossing each others hearts
into the air.


In the end,
there were only words left to play with,
so this is why I write.
Like this.

– Chatty Owl –


You are nothing
but a vague distraction
from all my lazy coffee drinking,
foggy afternoons
busy thoughts,
I am trying to ignore.
You are
a mere and utter entertainment,
for when my eyes are bored
to read the words
of someone famous.
I turn to you.
All foreign sayings
lead in one direction –
We’re like a pair of fluffy kittens,
fiddling with the ball.
Or balls.
Or other body parts of such.
You run,
I wait.
I run,
you catch.
I stand,
you wait.
For more attention.
Never-ending cycle.
Easy, right?
We change momentum,
time to time,
but all it changes
is our lust,
which is, ironically,
just disappearing faster.

– Chatty Owl –


You just can’t
see my green eyes,
when I close them
in that moment of
you pleasuring me
with your words,
because I don’t want you
to see
the broken bones
inside me,
while I mouth your name
and think of another.
Secret words
were losing thrill
as they became
pronounced too often
and when even more secrets
came out,
I just wanted to leave
the room,
the street,
the city,
but most of all,
I wanted you to leave my heart.
You spun me round
to screw hard
with my head
and those faint promises
were all lined up,
like soldiers
against the nazi wall,
that wasn’t strong enough
to hold the weight of our sins
(that you didn’t even consider serious!)
and everything went collapsing
in front of my green eyes,
that couldn’t cry

– Chatty Owl –


Frozen bodies around us.
My hand in yours.
We are still warm.
To stay this way.

Simple toys of paper airplanes
give me hope
that dreams fly at the speed of a thought –
light enough to be a breath
on a steamed mirror
that reflects you
and not the other way round.

– Chatty Owl –


You gaze at me,
I gaze out the window
we both touch the same wallpaper,
but the patterns stain fingers
in different colours –
my green is your no
and your blue is the new red.
Mix it up.
Shake it,
but the results are always the same –
dirty brown.
Like an out of date rainbow.

– Chatty Owl –