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.
Consumed,
more than by any other experience
in the past,
I finally overdosed.
On you.
And it seemed like a such good decision.
– Chatty Owl –
