I remember the odour
of your leather
while deafening German sounds
were slowly killing me
with a desire
to never stop kissing you.
I remember the scent
of your embraces,
they felt like you
were borrowing my life
for some freak show.
Years later,
I’m here again,
in the sweet spot
of square one –
same name,
different letters,
and yet another indescribable feeling
of loss,
just in reverse this time.
I looked up to you
so much,
it started to feel
like a hungover cocktail
of hot and cold.
more than by any other experience
in the past,
I finally overdosed.
On you.
And it seemed like a such good decision.

– Chatty Owl –


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
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 –


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 –


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.
were holding my face
as you whispered sentences
out loud
and I couldn’t stop
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
why we haven’t done this

– Chatty Owl –


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

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
longing for that warm feeling,
just below my bellybutton.

– Chatty Owl –


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
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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